Cut my wrists up with a razor cause my songs are so shitty.

Nothing makes a shitty night better than setting yourself up for another.

I need to find a cute homophobe.

Life was simpler and I got more sleep when I knew I couldn’t have the boy I wanted.

ottffssent:

I hate myself. Everything about me. I’m fat, ugly, stupid, incompetent, depressed, and obnoxious. But. Most of all? I’m sick of needing medicine to be happy. I just want to be happy because overall, life is pretty good to me. Because there are some pretty wonderful things going on in my life. Better than I deserve, really. But I don’t want to need artificial chemicals to feel like life is worth living. It makes me sick to think about. I am currently depressed to the extreme. Again. And. Today was a really good day, too, so it doesn’t even make sense. I got to spend a lot of time with a great friend. We made buttons, had lunch, went to Salvo, and just had fun. We even got a pirate puppet named Pickey (originally Mickey) to give our friend as a birthday present and it was to be our UN representative of our country. And he loves ice cream sandwiches. And. It was just amazing. And I went to a Murder Mystery Party at the friend for whom we bought the puppet’s house, which was absolutely amazing. I went kinda crazy and felt bad about it, but I had fun. I was a detective who was scandalous and was in a intimate relationship with a married man. And we ended up just having a three-way marriage. And it was fun. But. Really, I was driving home from dropping the same friend off at her house and on my way home and I’m just looking at everything I could crash into. Everything that could kill me. Trees, buildings, other cars, telephone poles, etc. And why? I have no idea. It just hit me out of the blue. My day was fantastic, and yet there I was, looking for a way out of everything. And now I’m sitting in bed surrounded by so many blessings wanting to cry my eyes out because I am miserable. For no good reason. And I hate it. And it makes me want to cry more. I have absolutely amazing friends. An amazing family. An amazing God. And yet here I sit alone in the dark wanting to kill myself. And I can see exactly what I need to get over this depression. Well, actually, I can’t see it because the lights are off, but I know exactly where it is. It’s in this room. Just a few feet away. And if I just take the chemicals, my brain will override this awful feeling. But I don’t want to take them. I don’t want to be happy like THAT. But I know it’s the only way to be happy. Yet I am stubborn and will sit in bed and, if God and my brain let me, maybe fall asleep, bringing a brief interruption to my gloom. But until then, I will sit here contemplating how wonderful my life is, how miserable I am, how none of it makes sense, and how much I want to escape it all.

I know you didn’t ask for it, and probably don’t want it, but I’m going to go ahead and respond. Probably because I’m an insensitive douche. Whatever.

I know where you are. I’ve been there. I’ve been driving home, and contemplating how easy it would be to just wipe it all away. To not have to try for anything anymore, to finally rest.

I also have been prescribed pills, bottle after bottle. They always end up in the trash, or collecting in my drawer. I took one yesterday, for my ADHD, so I could focus on the paper I was writing that needed to be done that night, and I’m regretting it today, because fucking with your brain chemistry is never a good idea. It just isn’t. I’ve never trusted the pills, never trusted the people who gave them to me, and honestly, never trusted the people who paid for them to act in my best interest. So it would be foolish of me to allow them to dictate how my brain works.

It’s not a happy existence. I haven’t been happy in a long time. I’ve been cheerful, I’ve thought it was a good day, I’ve been not miserable, but that’s all there is. And when I last had happiness, it was forced. I had to make myself be happy.

That’s the life we’ve been dealt, the hand we’ve been given. For some reason, I’m still hopeful that I’ll be happy eventually- next semester, four years, ten years, someday. Consciously, I’m acutely aware that when I expect to be happy, something will just make me wait for it. But I hope anyways, and that generally keeps me going.

avolp:

So, on Wednesday in Religion, we had a small quiz that was super easy.  When I finished, I started drawing on the back.  I decided to draw an Angel.  I had mostly finished when she started collecting the tests.  Everything was finished…. except for the head.  So basically I had drawn a headless angel.  Classy, right?  Well…I got the quiz back today, and she drew a small smiley face where its head would be.  NANCY ROURKE IS SO AWESOME!

I did that once. She wrote around my drawing, and added things to my death pit.