It’s important to never allow loneliness to lower your standards.
I’ll stand in front of a light switch and flick it back and forth, I’ll repeat phrases in my head over and over, I’ll re-read a paragraph of a book ten times because I feel like I didn’t do it right the first time.
They think more than they speak. Sometimes even the people who are closest to them don’t realize how much pain they’re in, how badly they’ve been hurting, because they suffer in silence.
Let me feel the pain, because it’s there, and pretending it’s not makes it far worse. Let me mourn the loss of the things I can’t do right now. Let me be frustrated. Let me cry about it.
The excuse has to be a believable prior commitment or external force that is preventing you from going out.
I’ve been rejected. I’ve cried. I’ve quit. I’ve stopped believing. But I’ve also wiped my tears, brushed off the dirt, and started believing in myself again.
This isn’t violence. What they are doing is violence. They are the violence. Didn’t you hear what they said last week? Didn’t you see the video that went viral last week?
I hate how some of us live in different states. Even more than that, I hate how some of us live thirty minutes away from each other, and only meet up on special occasions. I hate how we don’t make an effort to stay connected.
Whenever my depression hits, I feel like I’ve let my loved ones down. I feel like I’m making them feel bad.
As soon as my attack ends, everything I said suddenly feels so stupid. I can finally see the way I looked through the other person’s eyes. I can see how psycho I must have seemed. How pathetic.