Depression had me in its chokehold again… and this time I didn’t know if it was going to let go.
I’m tired of going to bed alone and hoping tomorrow will be different
It won’t be
All the things I don't need to hear
I hate my life.
You have so much to be thankful for. You have a roof over your head. You have a family. You have food to eat everyday.
I hate my job. I barely get myself to stand up in the mornings, to get dressed, to put on the mask.
At least you still have a job. You are so blessed to have a job in this economic climate.
I am so unhappy. My depression is literally killing me.
If you keep telling yourself that, it will never change. You are in charge of your happiness and if you keep telling yourself your sad, you'll never be happy.
I am so tired. All I can do is manage to sleep. I'm running on no motivation.
Just start exercising and eating healthy. You're feeling this way because you do not get enough exercise and your diet isn't right.
I think my antidepressants aren't strong enough.
Why?
I am so amazingly done with this...
Life
One day
One day we will all just be an obituary in an old forgotten newspaper
You were the one I wanted to spend forever with...
Who knew forever was so short?
I’m just so tired of being broken
Isn’t it ironic-
The world leaves us broken and alone.
wannabewritingnow reblogged
friend: you look stressed me: haha yeah it’s the stress
These days I’m a bit of a disappointment..
Don’t be surprised if I end up disappointing you
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@writerscreed prompt 142: meliorist
———-
The bearded barista gives me a large coffee instead of the medium I ordered.
“You look like you need it. Have some extra,” he says.
I put a dollar tip into the jar by the register.
—
I am now wide awake.
On the highway, I let two cars cut in line at the toll booth.
“Is that enough karmic payback?” I ask Stacy.
She is busy in the passenger seat, watching herself in the selfie cam of her phone while putting on lipstick. Without looking up she says, “You can’t think of the cosmic balance of good deeds in that way.”
“So how should I think about it?”
She puckers her lips into a kiss and takes a picture of herself as we leave the toll booth. “Some way other than that.”
She shows me the picture, briefly distracting me from the road. “How do I look?”
“Cute. And dangerous.” I answer.
“Thank you. Now consider this. You just gave me a compliment. I now feel good about myself, and the universe is a little bit better.”
“That still doesn’t answer my question.”
“Let life answer your question, my friend.” She peers out the windshield and says, “Get over now, it’s this exit.”
I do as she says.
Regret
He lay in bed, filled with whiskey and regret, while tears he couldn’t shed slammed against the roof and windows with brute force.
He thought about her. The girl who loved the storm- who was his storm. He pictured her cuddling up beside him, whispering, “Isn’t it somber that when the sky cries, it’s this beautiful?” He pictured her jumping up and eagerly opening all the windows, allowing the scent of rain and fresh air to waft in. He pictured her holding her hands outside, trying to catch the drops in her palms, laughing at how nice it felt when it slipped through the cracks in her fingers.
He tasted salt on his lips. And regret filled his eyes, his heart, his being.
He couldn’t recall what they had fought about, only that she was upset enough that he should’ve stop- no, he should’ve told her he loved her and that she was his world.
Maybe then she would be here laughing instead of becoming a part of the soil of this world.
She bloomed like a flower, beautiful and alone
She was happy
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stephenstilwell-deactivated2021
“Let’s stand in the rain and let its gentle touch heal our wounds.”
— s.s. (stephenstilwell)
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He proceeded to place
the broken pieces
of my heart together;
before he decided
I wasn't worth
the repair.
R.A.
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thegoodvybe
Source: weheartit.com
wannabewritingnow reblogged
“Moving on is terrifying. Letting go is terrifying. But nothing is more terrifying than waiting for someone to come back when they never truly had any intention of staying.”
— Juansen Dizon, Lessons in Heartbreak