It's mine typical time for depressive thoughts. It's the time when everyone's sleeping, when there's only me, hidden in darkness in my room.
I always think about everything for so long. It always starts like that I'm just thinking about stuff what happened and then I start to think about what will happen, what could happen and so on. I think about myself too. Because that's the thing I'm not thinking of a lot in the course of a day.
I'm thinking about that why I'm being so naive and think that I will have a better life one day, when I just can't take this life. And I'm only sixteen. It's been six fucking years already.
Six years of pain. And I just don't know how long I will be able to keep this pain inside. How long I will be able to smile at the others when I cry at night and all I want to is to be someone else. I think that I'm gonna go crazy because of all of this shit. Seriously. I can see how annoying I am, how grumpy and different than I was before. And this is what brought me to panic attacks and anxiety.
It's happening to me more than I was used to. I think it all started one day when I was at grandma's and I was really depressed, because my old friends stopped to talk to me and said bad things about me behind my back. One of them probably, wrote me a message, something like I changed and I'm playing that I'm someone else to be cool. It hurted so fucking bad. I remember how I started to breath fast, went away from my laptop, started to shake, heart beated slow. I was crying on the floor. I woke up my little brother. He came to me and said: "Luce, what are you doing? Go sleep to bed." and he slept with me there, hugging me tight.
I swear, if my little brother wouldn't be there, I would give up in this moment. It always bring me tears to my eyes. And this is how my thoughts are going. Every fucking night. And I'm sick of that already. But I can't help it. So I'm just saying the same things, writing it there, annoy you with them, just to get them out of me. But it's not helping actually. So I don't even know why I'm still trying.
Actually why I'm still TRYING? It'll never be good. It'll go like this forever. This is why nobody can be with me. It'd piss him off, those depressive moods and thoughts, he would probably kill me, if I had someone. So why the fuck am I wondering if I'll find someone one day? I'll die alone. And that makes me sad. Because I can't do anything with that. Even if I tried. I can't. It's in me. Nobody can help it, though. Even I think that the only thing I really wanted was that I want to be loved, I want to know I'm important for someone.
Few days ago I had a weird dream again (maybe it's because of those "I'm gonna beat you up" messages on ask.fm - I don't really care about them already, I just want to know why someone want to beat me up, then he/she can do it, whatever.), so there were some guys and they beated me up. Like seriously beated me up. I was bleeding, everything hurted, I was almost dying. When they left, I fell asleep. And then I wasn't in my body, but I looked at myself in a hospital. And no one came. No one.
Thanks to this dream, I felt more lonely then I ever was. So before I fall asleep now, I just think about this brutal things unfortunately, about being beated up and what persons around me would do. I just really want to know, if there's really someone who would REALLY care.
But that's just my stupid thought, like everything else on this blog. So, you shouldn't even pay attention on that. Everytime I write something, I feel somehow ashamed for that. Sorry.
And now, I think I can go to sleep.
Goodnight.
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