Turn on, Tune in, Troll out.

15

I think I stopped writing on this when I started to care about what other people thought about me. I don’t know exactly when that was, but this time last year…I think I wrote quite a bit. I’m not sure. But something changed, and I’m always saying that now. The whole, “I don’t know what happened,” or, “I don’t remember when xyz started to happen” and it’s always a bad thing. It’s always, I don’t know why I’m sad/angry/anxious/annoyed/bored bored bored, making bad decisions and not telling anyone anything except for the things that contribute to more sadness/anger/anxiety/annoying boredom leading to bad decisions and nothing makes sense. All I ever do is complain and apologize and I never get help for what I really need help with. I can’t even ask for help. I’ve tried, but I guess I didn’t try hard enough. Or maybe I don’t even want help. But I’m stuck here, thinking every day, “why am I not happy, at all?” and I can’t think of what I’m supposed to do. If talking about it is not an option, but talking seems like what I should want, then what the fuck? What is even wrong? I’m just setting myself up again, spiraling downward until I hit “rock bottom” then I’ll try and climb back up and fall again, or maybe I’ll just dig deeper from this so called, “rock bottom”. It seems like I’ve never left anyway, like maybe sometimes (wish I could’ve put some days instead of times) I’ll feel like I found a magic elevator back up to the top.   but then, I just wake up on the ground. 

And no, I’m not high. And no, I don’t want to talk to you. And no, I’m not sorry.