I don't even know anymore...
I hate myself. I really do. I'm sick of myself. I'm trying so hard to keep it together and act as if everything's okay, but I can't anymore. I'm so close to relapsing, I'm so close to... I don't even know anymore, I really don't. I just want to stop this bullshit.
I don't want to die though. I couldn't do that. I've tried too many times, failed too many times, I'm somehow still here, and still just as self-destructive.
There are very few things that are able to cheer me up these days. Things like Liverpool FC winning a match, taking photos of my dolls, or talking to certain people who give a fuck about me (they know who they are).
I honestly don't see the point in posting this. But I can't say my feelings out loud.
I just want to keep convincing myself that everything will be okay.
But how can it be when I live in my head, when I struggle to talk to people in real life and I struggle at school with everything.
I don't want to give up on my life, but I've given up on myself ever doing anything of any note. I'm too fucked up.
In the words of Avenged Sevenfold, I'm too weird to live but much too rare to die