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07 October 2011 @ 12:56 am

It has been such a long period of time since my last entry, I'm not sure whether that is a positive or a negative thing. Maybe it's both. I almost feel guilty that I seem to use this blog as some sort of emotional release but, again, surely that should be a good thing. At times like this, where I feel like I am at the end of my teather with the world and the people in it, I need some sort place to place my anger and sadness. It doesn't do anyone any good to keep mass amounts of negativity bottled up inside. With noone here to listen to my woes or make me feel like I have anything to live for, this is what is the result of my pain. Isn't it true that they say, the best emotive writing comes from those who experience what it truly is to ache inside? For example, one cannot write about love until they have truly experienced it, or even come close to that euphoric feeling. The same goes for depression.

To anyone who is depressed, the hardest thing to do is to accept the fact that you are, clinically depressed. What is even harder to do, is to gather the courage to reach out to those who can help. I haven't been able to do that within my 21 years of existance. I've probably been deeply depressed ever since my school days, where I wondered that if I were gone tomorrow, would anyone of cared? I used to delve myself within thoughts of who would turn up at my funeral, what they would say about me as a person and what would be reflected upon. As bitter as this sounds, I truly and honestly believe that the world only misses a person and sees them in their greatest light, when they are no longer alive on this earth. A harsh reality for such a seemingly cold human race. With every day that goes by, is a day that makes me lose a little more faith with people generally.

Today was an example. I've always been troubled by the worry that I'm not completely liked by the people closest to my boyfriend, that maybe I'm not interesting enough or maybe they just do not like my personality as a whole. This day, or should I say yesterday, was really taking the biscuit. I'm laughing as I type this because I've always had this ideal where if I'm not liked by someone (For which it is technically impossible to live in this world without meeting someone that you just do not get on with.) that it is MY fault. That it is the end of the world and that it ruins the whole balance of my life so much that I only have myself to blame. It is an ongoing obsession that I have to embody perfection in my relationships with others, because I long so much to be accepted by the world. I want people to love me. I think honestly, that the only thing that keeps me from overdosing on pills and killing myself is the faith that someone out there must be able to understand and love me for who I really am.

But, I am babbling so let me get straight to the point here, I have let people have so many chances at being reasonable. I finally see them in a great, positive light and then it's like karma slamming my head back down to earth when they act like a total prick for no justified reason at all. It's like someone telling you, 'I told you so.' I am so fucking done with giving people second chances just for them to reinforce the reason why I dislike them in the first place. For once in my life I am going to embrace being royally pissed off at Bevis and I am not going to give any second chances. You only get so many with me, you burn me once I can muster enough courage to give you a second chance. Burn me twice, you have proven that you truly are a fucking waste of space. I have tolerated so much with that guy, having my boyfriend being provoked to take the piss out of my asthmatic problems in front of people, sat through so many Xbox sessions completely ignored, I can't believe I even went to that guy's wedding, only to be ignored when I walked past him. Like I wasn't there. Like I hadn't consciously made an effort to be happy for him on his special day. Well, whenever I get married, I'm going to make sure that I am not the one that fucking invites him to the wedding reception. I'd rather eat my own shit.

So yeah. Oh, and that also goes for his socially retarded ex-flatmate, Stephen who joins in because he's so desperate to feel included in situations. I have to attend his wedding at the end of the month also, to pretend I give a shit about the whole event. To pretend like I'm not annoyed that I gave up a chance to see Katy Perry live to watch his bald ass get married and then divorced a year later probably. Ugh.
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