When the bad comes back.

I’m feeling bad again, but I’m also feeling slightly determined. I’m not going back to how I was, we don’t have to keep sliding backwards. 

So, I’ve got my headphones in as lond as it’ll go and I’m singing/dancing around and I look ridiculous! I’ve also started to write when the feelings come back, a story I posted on a website where you can share stories. Come on guys, act like a fool, try and laugh the badness away, kill it with kindness!

Bitter sweet.

Don’t get me wrong, when people are getting better or are completely recovered. I’m happy for them, I genuinely am; but I also feel like screaming and crying and breaking down with jealousy because I know that will never be me.

I don’t see a future where I don’t rely on the back up of self harm or some form of self hate slanging match with myself, or thoughts about ending it all.

I will always be this stupid, fat, pathetic, useless mess. The only reason I’m here is because I couldn’t hurt my mum or nana the way which my suicide would.