I lie a lot more than I would hope to.
Every time I get asked if I’m OK, I lie and say yes I am. But I’m not…
I lie to everyone. Including myself sometimes. But the one I can’t lie to is my dog. She knows something is wrong, she’s clinging to me.
I’m not OK. I wish I was. I wish I could explain this feeling of defeat and depression to you. I wish you could understand why, in times like this, I want to cut. But its a scary thought and it’s not a good thing to think about.
Right now, I’ve realized that I am alone. I have one friend that I talk to almost daily. And right now I have that feeling that I want to go home, then I remember that I don’t have a home. I’m living in someone else’s place, its not my own. I don’t have a shelf to put my things, I don’t have a closet for my clothes, hell, my clothes are in baskets and a storage tub.
Pity party? Maybe. But I wish that I could just give up. Because I’m realizing that I am alone.
I wish I could just die. But I can’t. And maybe I don’t really want that. I’m anxious, I feel it all over. I want to cut. I need to. But I can’t.
So much for being stable.