secrets

official as of 2.8.25

  • i'm not an insecure person, but i am incredibly lonely. i don't know how to fix that though, because it's self inflicted.
  • i have people around me, i have friends, but i never have social energy anymore. i really only find peace in solitude, but then i don't feel connected to anyone.
  • i honestly just think i can't form emotional bonds well. the few times i do, those people don't really stick around.
  • one day, i'll be confident enough to verbalize what i really think and how i really feel. i've been told before that i'm already open about that, but i'm not.
  • i fantasize about a lot, often. this is probably one of the few ways i don't feel lonely, the characters in my head are there. it's why i love reading, too.
  • i still think about killing myself every day. i'm nearing the end of my time according to the statistics for my diagnosis, and i wonder if i'll end up early.
  • i knew that my diagnosis would make relationships hard and spent time learning to make it easier for others, but nothing for myself. i can't ever shake the fears i have.
  • my whole personality started to feel like a symptom, and i feel like i have to wear a mask even around those i love. i don't get to be me. i feel like being me is just hurtful to others.
  • i want to be a good person, i truly do. but i constantly feel like i'm not. like just by being here, i'm harming others.
  • i'm not emotionless, i'm really not. i have my moments where i can't feel anything, but i still have feelings. i don't like voicing any because i don't like being vulnerable. i don't like having that weakness.
  • it feels weird when people tell me compliments or praise. i don't feel very deserving of it. i feel like i'm a fraud manipulating them to say that.
  • my anger probably comes from feeling lonely. from feeling like i'm shouting over and over and over and over again and no one will listen.
  • everyone feels like a stranger to me. even i feel like a stranger to myself.
  • as a kid, i used to wonder who the real me was. every time i thought i found her, i realized she was farther away than before. now? she's probably dead. long forgotten. a ghost has taken her place.
  • the sun sets, the sky gets a little cloudy, and suddenly i'm a dog stuck in a cycle of being beaten then returned to the pound. adopted, beaten, returned, adopted, beaten, returned, adopted, beaten, returned. suddenly, i'm very small and cowering in a corner, waiting for the next cruel act to befall me.
  • i miss feeling feminine.
  • my voice feels raw, like i'm constantly screaming, but i think it's really just that every time i accept a cruel act and move on it adds a new slice.