It has become a societal norm that for men to cry in public is indecent, laughable and even pathetic.
My friends and I would hang together, and through comedic love, I would spend most of my time consoling and uplifting them, only to go home alone and cry alone.
Phase Four And A Half. You start to come up with all sorts of reasons why this is doomed to fail. Oh, and by the way, what is “this” anyway?
Make everyone jealous of your wraithlike frame, from overstuffed middle aged women past their prime, to that bitch Tiffany who bangs all the hot guys.
You don’t control everything in your life, but you control how you act, how you deal with your problems, and how you treat others.
Please, save your life and your mental health by being informed.
You should not be judged by the way you’re hurting. No one can tell you what you should and shouldn’t feel.
You’re tired all day at work and using lots of coffee to try to stay awake. By now you may even have a pretty good tolerance for it and it doesn’t work as much anymore.
Take my parents for granted. At some point in the last decade, my parents decided to become more human than the immortal beings that I believed they always would be.
I sometimes forget who I am because I am so overwhelmed in what my illness makes me.