A psychiatrist once told me, “depression is not an excuse.”
I have these obsessive thoughts.
I live in a fantasy world.
I pretend to be someone I’m not.
It’s the only way to cope.
Imagine being someone who is beautiful, talented, and most importantly–sane. Sanity and clarity is all I yearn for. My brain is fogged up with a cloud and my visibility is blurred.
I sit still.
I have these ups and downs.
Believe it or not, the ups are the worst of it. I think the cloud has lifted for good only for the storm to brew a few months later.
It’s a tease.
I’m right back where I started.
In the pits of despair.
I am 20 years old. Never been in love. Haven’t graduated college. Couldn’t follow my dreams. I haven’t lived. But, at the ripe age of 20, I am ready to die.
No one cares about me.
No one cares about crazy people.