I feel like I always complain about the same thing. That the tons of problems I think I have, are just one little thing that bothers me a lot.
That's why I'm scared of talking about it to anybody. That's why I chose to vent out anonymously. Because it isn't really that big of a deal, but to me, it feels like it is, and I can't help it, so forgive me for that.
This is me knowing what's wrong, but still not doing anything about it.
I think it's funny how, you can feel like you've hit bottom, and then, someone you care about does something, any silly unimportant thing, and it suddenly makes you feel a lot better. The problem with that is that, I guess you can get disappointed easily. So I'm not getting as excited.
I stare at the wall that contains snippets of the things I love, and I wish someone else had given them to me. I wish I hadn't been the only one that had collected them. I wish someone knew I loved these things, and would add more to it. And I wish I could stop blaming people for that, because, after all, and I'm not trying to earn pity or whatever by saying this, it's actually my fault. I'm the one who can't let anybody in because I'm so fucking insecure I couldn't believe someone wanted to.
So yes, it's my problem, and I should solve it myself, but I somehow can't be bothered to even try. Because obviously it's easier to just sit there and cry and blame the world for being oh so cruel. Or even better, blame myself for being such a disgrace to humanity.
I'm doing it again. I could be happy if I tried a bit. Why don't I want to be happy? Why do I need somebody else so badly? God, and I was proud of being so independent, and of claiming I never needed anybody.
So I guess that, with me, it goes back and forth between self-pitying, and scolding myself for doing so.
It's completely stupid and pointless. It's as if I just enjoyed pretending to be in such a misery. What's so appealing about it? Is it the attention I don't get? Or is it the time I waste? Or is it the fact that it doesn't make anything better?
...Well, this is me being mad at myself, and falling into the same cycle over again.
That's why I'm scared of talking about it to anybody. That's why I chose to vent out anonymously. Because it isn't really that big of a deal, but to me, it feels like it is, and I can't help it, so forgive me for that.
This is me knowing what's wrong, but still not doing anything about it.
I think it's funny how, you can feel like you've hit bottom, and then, someone you care about does something, any silly unimportant thing, and it suddenly makes you feel a lot better. The problem with that is that, I guess you can get disappointed easily. So I'm not getting as excited.
I stare at the wall that contains snippets of the things I love, and I wish someone else had given them to me. I wish I hadn't been the only one that had collected them. I wish someone knew I loved these things, and would add more to it. And I wish I could stop blaming people for that, because, after all, and I'm not trying to earn pity or whatever by saying this, it's actually my fault. I'm the one who can't let anybody in because I'm so fucking insecure I couldn't believe someone wanted to.
So yes, it's my problem, and I should solve it myself, but I somehow can't be bothered to even try. Because obviously it's easier to just sit there and cry and blame the world for being oh so cruel. Or even better, blame myself for being such a disgrace to humanity.
I'm doing it again. I could be happy if I tried a bit. Why don't I want to be happy? Why do I need somebody else so badly? God, and I was proud of being so independent, and of claiming I never needed anybody.
So I guess that, with me, it goes back and forth between self-pitying, and scolding myself for doing so.
It's completely stupid and pointless. It's as if I just enjoyed pretending to be in such a misery. What's so appealing about it? Is it the attention I don't get? Or is it the time I waste? Or is it the fact that it doesn't make anything better?
...Well, this is me being mad at myself, and falling into the same cycle over again.