Okay so please feel free to not read this cause it ain’t gonna be pretty.
I’m pissed. At everything and everyone. At the world. At people who think they are better than others. At people who lie. At people who don’t care. At people who have comfortable lives. At people who are happy. At people who have it easy. At people who have never experienced depression. At people who have never been abused. At people who have never felt real pain. And then I’m pissed at people who say, “everyone’s life is hard” or, “everyone has a burden to carry.” Bullshit. Until you have walked in my shoes you don’t know my pain.
I’m just sick and tired of the shit that people play. At the shit that people pull. Of the lies. Of the games. Of the pretending. Don’t pretend to be nice to me then talk shit behind my back. This is directed at one person in particular. One person who doesn’t read my blog, so don’t worry, it’s not you.
I’m just so fucking pissed right now. As if I haven’t already said that. I said this is going to be a rant though didn’t I?
I’m sick of the pretend. I’m sick of having to act happy for everyone. I’m sick of having to slap on the smile and laugh at all the right moments and show care and concern when I really could care less. I probably sound like an insensitive bitch. I don’t care. I really just don’t care about anything right now.
The thing that pisses me off the most is that I can’t reach out. I can’t open up. When I’m the most in need, when I’m having the biggest feelings, I have to hide it all away. I’m pissed that I was raised to hide my feelings. That they were never listened to or acknowledged. Fuck.
And don’t get me started on my therapist. A therapists job is pretending to listen. Pretending to care. Showing false concern. That’s what they are paid for. I reached out to her last night. She called and I called back. She couldn’t be bothered to talk for a single second or even ask what was wrong or if I was okay. Stuck to business. She had an opening tonight if I wanted to schedule it. I told her I’d think about it and told her I’d talk with her later. Goodnight, I said. Goodnight, she said. Fuck her. She could’ve at least asked if I was okay. I mean, I wouldn’t have reached out if I was okay, right? She should know these things.
I don’t want to be bothered. By anyone. No calls, no texts. Just leave me alone. Everyone.
Perhaps someone can slap me across the face and tell me to just shut up and stop wallowing in self pity. Or maybe just drown me. That would be nice. Just hold me under and smile as I struggle and wait until the water has filled my lungs and my body goes limp before you let go. That perhaps would be a good end to all of this. That would be sad though, wouldn’t it? If these were my last words? But then again a part of me doesn’t give a shit. Who cares. Let people hate me. Let people think I was an angry selfish self-absorbed bitch. Because I am, aren’t I?