Your People.




This is a good quote above….They’re either watching, put me there, or haven’t even noticed. I don’t know which is worse. I’ve had more care shown to me on my blog, by someone I don’t even know, than I’ve received from any of my friends.

I feel so unbelievably invisible to the world at the moment. I have one friend who never responds to me when I comment on her photos on Facebook, but responds to everyone else – she’ll even wait until one other person comments and just respond to them, blanking me. I have another friend who knew I wanted to go to a gig, and indicated she wouldn’t be going as she’s already seeing the band later in the year, and then I find out she’s got tickets to go with someone else, and what makes it worse is I couldn’t get hold of any tickets myself, so she’s going twice, and I’m not going at all. I have another friend who keeps jumping on my posts because she doesn’t agree with them, she keeps looking for fights and then walks away as though she’s the victim, she has no idea the damage she’s done. I have another friend who can surely see I’m struggling but doesn’t get in touch to see if I’m okay – she goes weeks at a time of not talking to me, and I think it’s because she resents me for our fallout last year – I don’t get in touch with her because I feel so low, and because I don’t know how to be around her when I’m still upset about last year. I’ve got another friend I’m uncertain about whether she was aiming comments at me, or if it was pure coincidence and just very bad timing. And then the rest of them just never seem bothered.

I’m falling apart at the moment, and where are they all? Okay, I know I’ve closed my Facebook account, but some of them have my number! Some of them have other ways of contacting me to see if I’m okay. Where is the concern? Where is the caring? Do any of them even notice I’m not around at the moment, and I’m in a bad place?

I just feel I can’t rely on friends anymore. They always let you down. They always hurt you. And if you’re me, then they won’t give a fuck about it either – totally clear consciences. Totally clean hands. Zero remorse… carry on with life.

So I’m just going to stay offline, apart from writing on this blog – which I will do to at least feel slightly less alone, and more connected to people – you lovely people who take the time to read my posts. Thank you! And I’ll wait to see how long it takes for them to realise I’ve gone. See if they ever notice, or care. Maybe I’ve done that thing that us people with BPD have a tendency to do…. pushing people away to see if they care, and maybe unfortunately I have my answer. They don’t.

Friendships are hard, and painful. And they need to be worth the pain. I need to feel I’m gaining something from caring about these people. But lately I don’t feel I am. And all that does is drain me, and make me question my importance. Having BPD and low self-esteem, I feel certain nobody likes me, wants to see me or talk to me…. so if they do, then they need to make that effort. They need to make it perfectly clear to me that they want me in their life… and not just for the day before we meet up, the day we meet and then forgetting I exist after that. I need consistency and effort, especially at the moment. But we’ll wait and see if anyone actually gives a hoot about me… doesn’t feel likely at the moment. I’ve received more care from colleagues and strangers, than I’ve had from a single friend recently. Starting to see the truth about ‘my people’…

The Guilty Blogger




This is something I’ve lived by for so long. I am passionately loyal to those I care about. I have sadly always had to question the loyalty of my friends. I don’t think I’ve ever really been defended by friends. I’ve had some talk about me behind my back. I admit I have probably spoken about some behind their backs at times, but never in a malicious way… only to seek advice on how to handle something. But I usually end up talking to the person themselves about any issues.

That is until recently. I’ve come to realise I’m blogging about things that I really should be talking to people directly about. But I can’t. I am completely terrified of discussing anything with anyone anymore. I clam up at the thought.

The first time I ever had a problem with a friend was with *Holly. When I tried to discuss it with her, to resolve it and move forward, she refused to talk about it. The more I wanted to resolve things, the more enraged she seemed to get. She wanted to silence my voice. She didn’t want to be held accountable for her actions. She couldn’t cope with being ‘criticised as a friend’ and having to feel guilty, when in actual fact I wasn’t criticising her as a friend. She had done something that hurt me, and I was simply asking her not to hurt me anymore. And as a friend she should have not wanted to hurt me. But she made the situation worse by refusing to listen to me. By shutting me down it was no longer about the initial act that hurt me. It was about her disrespect for me. By refusing to talk to me about things… saying it was only an issue for me and she had moved on, showed she wasn’t my friend. If something matters to me, then it should matter to my friends. If discussing something would heal our friendship, then surely my friends should want to do that. If they care about me then surely my feelings should matter to them, more than their ego. They shouldn’t demand my silence.

This was the one and only time I really had an issue with a friend. Until last year, with another friend… and unfortunately the issue was actually about Holly. And ended in the same result. It’s not to be discussed anymore. So it’s like a complete replica of the Holly situation, or at least that’s the feelings I’m left with… and it involved Holly too. So Holly is the bane of my life. It’s incredible how much damage one insignificant little person can do to someone’s life.

Things don’t feel resolved for me. But that’s too bad. I have to keep my mouth shut about it now. Even if I was allowed to talk about it, I don’t think I could. I am so scared of feeling like I did last year again. It made me question so much. It made me question who I am, who my friends really are, basically everything. My head goes in circles and knots, trying to explain the damage that’s been done to my mind.

I had never had a disagreement like that with a close friend. Our friendship had never been tested. And if I’m honest I don’t feel confident it fully passed the test. I’m still left with questions, doubts, fears, resentment. And again, not because of the initial thing that upset me, but because of the way it was handled afterwards. But I know I can never talk to my friend about any of this, as it’ll be just the same as it was last year. And I can’t handle that again.

I wish I could be like my friends, and just forget things that happened, but I can’t. I don’t know if it’s my BPD or just an aspect of my character, but I can’t forget things like this. They shape my existence. They form my beliefs. They traumatise me. I dream about these things, these people. I remember it all every single day. I experience the sickening feeling and feel like my heart is in my stomach. I’m tense. The thoughts circle through my mind. I split. I get all these flashbacks to it and feel every physical sensation I went through, with every word said, and how rubbish I was made to feel about myself. I tell myself I’m an awful person. Then I tell myself I’m not the problem. I get angry, and sad. Then I see my friend and everything’s fine, and everything feels good. Then the next day the cycle starts again. And I’m SICK of it. I want it to stop. It’s like my heart is slowly breaking more and more each day, and there’s constant noise in my head. I want it to go away. And that’s why I want to do something drastic. I want to end it. I want to harm myself, to make it stop at least for a while. At least when I harm myself it turns my attention to caring for a wound. It would be better than sitting here, day in day out, with this massive wound on my heart, that’s eating away at my mind.

I feel like the most awful person in the world for writing about these struggles I’m facing. I shouldn’t be doing it. But at the same time I remember a number of my friends saying it’s my blog, it’s helping me, I should write what I want… people don’t have to look. But that doesn’t ease my conscience. I’m stuck right now. I can’t face any confrontation or negativity in my life right now, so can’t discuss things directly. So I blog, because I need to have a voice. I need to make sense of the chaos in my head. I need to know I’m not as alone as I feel. But then I feel guilty for choosing to blog. And then I feel bitter for feeling it’s my only option now. I wish I could talk to my friends about issues… but that’s no longer an option for me. I don’t think I can ever recover from the last time, so I’ll never risk it again. I’ll either just put up, or fade away like I used to with friends.

I just feel so sad that friends can’t talk about things and understand each other, without going on the defensive. I feel sad that my friendships now will never have depth. They’ll only be surface friendships. If you never mention issues you’ll always keep each other at a distance, so as not to have issues. The point is, I’ll never let anyone that close to me anymore. I won’t open up to friends the same. I won’t trust them. And the biggest problem I have now, is believing anybody really cares about me or can tolerate me. I feel I am tolerated not loved. And I feel my friend reached her limit. She didn’t want to talk about it anymore, which in my messed up, BPD mind says “I’m tired of hearing about the things that cause you pain”… which further breaks down to “I’m tired of your ‘feelings’” … which ultimately boils down to – “I’m tired of you”.

I can’t help that that’s how I feel now. I feel a burden, a nuisance, and a cause of stress. I’ve gone downhill lately in my recovery. And people have only ever seen me getting better. So they likely don’t know how to cope with me now I’m a misery-guts. I feel enough of a burden and a failure for relapsing and spiralling down. But to be spiralling down, with the belief that the more I spiral, the more tired of me my friends will get…. it’s upsetting.

All my adult life I have been shown the evidence that people don’t like a Debbie Downer. They go where the positivity is. That’s why people gravitated towards Holly and left me feeling isolated. It’s the fact that Holly came back last year, that makes this a million times worse… because I know the truth, but I’ve been told that no harm was intended. Be that as it may, harm was done. But now Holly will have gone off thinking I’m the negative, toxic person she wanted people to believe I was. And she’s won. Because I’m sure that’s what certain people think of me now. They probably see my BPD as ‘toxic’. They see me as negative – never mind the reasons behind my negativity! But Holly comes out smelling of roses yet again. And I’m the bad guy, the one who ruined a friendship. I’m the Debbie Downer, who can’t get over her past! Never mind the fact I need the past to fuck off in order for me to get over it!!! Which I had been doing until last year!

I just want to scream. This situation is so messed up, on so many levels. I’m questioning every little thing now. Look, I wish I could be positive. But I’m worn down. I want to forget my past, and nobody can comprehend the struggle I have to go through living with it. It’s difficult enough with my BPD and the trauma of my memories, without having constant reminders of that past. But I do it. I live with it. I have to. I have to stuff my feelings down and forget people even exist, in order to maintain other friendships. But God it’s a struggle. Nobody can ever appreciate how hard I work to keep the past at bay, whilst being reminded of it every day. I do it for them. For their friendship. But it takes its toll on me.

I feel certain I’m in the process of being abandoned… the one thing someone with BPD can’t cope with. It’s the last thing I want to happen. I want my friends to say “Look, I care about you, and I’m not going anywhere. We’ll talk about anything you need to talk about to make this right, I don’t want to lose you”. But I know this isn’t an option. I feel myself drifting away from people. And the self-sabotaging part of me is screaming inside – “If you want to go, just go!”. I almost feel I’m deliberately pushing people away, to prove nobody cares and wants to stay. Whenever I distance myself like this, nobody ever chases after me to make me stay. I feel people will be happier when they’re no longer friends with me. I feel emotionally draining to others. Mainly because I spend most days feeling emotionally drained myself. I don’t want to inflict myself on anyone else. And if they want to leave me, then here’s their chance. Just go. And I’m sorry I’m a burden. I’m sorry I made you choose my mental health over a friendship with the person who hurt me… that mental health is torn to shreds now anyway, so wasn’t worth it….. and I’m sorry I had to blog instead of talking to you… my heart can’t take any more. I’ve closed it. To everyone.

Time To Talk 2017




It’s #TimeToTalk. Conversations need to be had about mental health. Keeping your struggles, your fears, your feelings to yourself only makes mental health worse.

I only started talking openly about my mental health this time last year. Given how I’m feeling at the moment, I don’t know where I’d be if I didn’t discuss it openly.

There still remains so much stigma around mental health. That is why people like us need to speak out about our experiences, and show the world that we too are people, with a lot to offer. We are not ‘crazy’, ‘dangerous’, ‘hopeless’ or ‘unworthy’. Everyone likely has some aspect of mental health difficulties. This is my collection…





I have suffered from depression and anxiety ever since I left school, and that was the year I started to cut myself. Even this many years later, I face the same struggles. Recovery is possible, as I know – I had made incredible progress, and it’s only in the last year things have take a downward turn.

I had always been told my diagnosis was ‘severe depression and anxiety’. It was only after I did two courses of Dialectical Behaviour Therapy that I was told, it was for people who had Borderline Personality Disorder, and that’s what I had, or at least had traits of. I have never received an official diagnosis of it. I was offered the chance to get a diagnosis of it, but at the time I didn’t want the label and all the stigma that would come with it. I see now it would have been useful to explain to people why my life is so hard. It would explain my difficulties and behaviours to potential employers. But I don’t need an official diagnosis to know I have it. All I had to do was research it myself, and suddenly my thoughts and actions made sense. Not everyone with BPD will be the same. We don’t all have the same collection of symptoms. And on top of that we have our own personalities. Yes, BPD is about the personality, but it’s only an aspect of our personality, it is not the sum total of who we are as people. We are not all the same. BPD just means we struggle more with our emotions. We are not monsters. We are not manipulative. We are not attention-seekers.

People often think self-harm, which is a symptom of BPD, is manipulative and attention-seeking. It is not. It is usually done in private, and the shame around it causes people to hide it. How could this ever be seen as attention-seeking or manipulative? I admit, I talk about my self-harm more openly now. But not for any purpose other than to raise awareness of it, and to try and explain the process behind it.

Depression is not just feeling sad, or being disappointed about something. “Oh, now I’m depressed!” It’s nothing like that. Everyone has their sad days. This is not depression. Depression is like being waist-high in thick mud, whilst a dark cloud shrouds you. You’re stuck. You can’t escape it. And because of the dark cloud, nobody can see you to help you. Depression is waking up in the morning and not wanting to get up because there is nothing to look forward to. There is no point to life. It’s feeling empty and flat. It’s feeling exhausted all the time, for no reason. It’s feeling like nobody loves you. It’s remembering all the bad memories and using them to berate yourself and tell yourself that all you deserve is misery. It’s self-pity. It’s everything being too much effort. It’s feeling misunderstood. It’s not caring about your looks, hygiene or caring for yourself. It’s not wanting to eat, drink or sleep, or not being able to sleep. It’s constant negative thoughts. It’s wanting to give up on life. Unless you’ve had it you can never understand just how dark it is, how isolating it is, and just how much you need friends to stick by you through it, patiently. Many people don’t get it.

I’ve had a more general sense of anxiety. I used to have anxiety attacks. My anxiety was mainly more social anxiety than anything else. I couldn’t and can’t make phone calls or answer the phone, unless I know the person well. I don’t like writing someone with people watching. I don’t like going out to eat. I used to hate eating in front of people. I don’t like crowds, particularly shopping. I’d hate public speaking, although I did do a couple of speeches, one of them about self-harm at a university…. but that was ten years ago now! Not sure I could do it again at the moment. Everyone has nerves, and anxiety about things. But anxiety itself is harder to manage. I’ve often had to get out a paper bag to calm myself down. Anxiety is your heart rate increasing. It’s your blood pressure going up. It’s feeling sick. It’s swallowing more. It’s tension. It’s headaches. It’s shaking. It’s not being able to breathe properly. It’s just needing to get out of there. It’s loss of rational thinking. It’s what some would class as ‘overreacting’, though it’s not. It’s worrying about the present, the future and the past.

What isn’t in my collection above, is PTSD. I haven’t added that because I’m uncertain I fit under the exact label for it. All I know is events from the last five years have traumatised me. And when ‘PTSD’ for lack of a better label, is mixed with BPD, it is very hard to shake. The PTSD aspect throws all these memories at me, and the BPD aspect can’t cope with them, and makes me harm myself because of my past. PTSD is being left traumatised by something, be it a natural disaster, abuse of any kind, an accident, war, crime, sexual assault, or sometimes, like with me, a series of upsetting situations happening at once. I had one friend attacking me and badmouthing me to my other friends, another of those friends stabbing me in the back, and another person whom I really liked, finding out he was playing a game with me and using me. That’s without my health problems and the death of a friend around that time too. It was all too much, and I can’t get over it. That year everything became SO real that it didn’t actually feel real. It felt like ‘this can’t all be happening to me…’ Last year was like that too. So many bad things that I thought, ‘this can’t be happening’…. it was so real, that it didn’t feel real. It’s like it was happening to someone else. I couldn’t be almost losing my mum, my dad and my granddad, and falling out with my best friend for the first time. It was too much. It still is too much. These times of my life are hard to get over. They traumatise me, and I think only through talking therapy can I begin to make any progress.

I have emetophobia. I won’t talk about this very much, as thinking about it and mentioning certain words is enough to make me anxious. Emetophobia for those who don’t know, is an intense fear of being physically sick, or of someone else around you being sick. I don’t want to see it, hear it, smell it, feel it, think of it, or even say the word ‘sick’. It conjures up thoughts that I don’t want. I don’t want to be around anyone who is being sick or might be sick. Put simply – I would rather die than be sick. And I know others with this phobia feel as strongly. God help me if I ever have kids!

Another thing I have is Trichotillomania, which I will be writing about separately soon. But just to inform anyone who doesn’t know what this is, it is hair pulling. Some people pick at their skin, I pick at my hair. I used to use tweezers to pluck hairs out of my scalp. I even left myself with a small bald patch once, that I needed to disguise. People with Trichotillomania (Trich for short) pull hairs from anywhere on the body. Some from their head, their eyebrows, eyelashes. Others from their legs, underarms, arms – anywhere there’s a hair is a potential zone for someone with Trich. It is hard to explain why I do it. With scalp hairs people often report certain hairs feeling ‘wrong’, and like they don’t belong. They feel coarser, and for me that indicates they’ll have a big juicy root if I pull them out. It sounds insane, but the relief you feel for having gotten rid of that hair, is immense. It’s a nervous behaviour. It is something I do when I’m anxious, and it brings me some relief. I find if I have split ends I’ll either pull the split bits off, or cut individual hairs above the split, which has led me to have many shorter strands of hair. If I don’t have scissors and it’s too much work to split the hairs I’ll pull that hair out. It’s like a need for ‘perfection’, though I’m aware this can never be attained. I used to pull out so many hairs you could see them all over the carpet. I’m actually someone who could pluck hairs out from almost anywhere and you wouldn’t see me flinch. There is a certain degree of pain in doing it, but it’s something I’ve come to tolerate. In some cases I need that physical feeling of plucking hairs out. This part of my mental health is really hard to explain to those who don’t have experience of it themselves. It’s addictive. It’s compulsive. It has similarities to Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. You can’t stop thinking about it, and you MUST do it. And once you start it can be hard to stop. You can spend ages focusing on one hair and if you can’t pluck it out you become really frustrated. It’s only once it’s out, you feel the relief. Sometimes if it’s particularly bad I have to put a hat on to stop myself doing it. The other thing was to put gloves on, or put sellotape on your fingers to stop yourself. It’s an anxiety based behaviour, and not one I’ve spoken about to anyone before. More posts about this will be coming soon.

I take medication for my mental health. I take two anti-depressants and an anti-psychotic at low dose, for my anxiety. I might have to adjust my medication when I see the doctor next, as I’ve been on them for so long they’re either not helping anymore, or are actually making me worse. But the fear of withdrawal symptoms and having side-effects on a new medication scare me, because of the emetophobia. Some might think it weak to take anti-depressants, but there’s nothing weak about it. Some of us need a bit of help with the chemicals in our brains. That’s fine. I don’t think I’d still be here if it wasn’t for medication. I used to be incredibly suicidal before I started anything. The only difficulty is fearing what I’ll be like without them. I suppose I’ve come to depend on them. I believe they are the only thing keeping me well at the moment. I worry how impulsive and suicidal I may become if I’m no longer on my medication. I don’t have full faith in myself. This is what I will speak to a doctor about. There is no shame in taking medication for mental health. The mind can get ill, just like any part of the body, and you’d take medication to help other parts of your body, so why not your mind?

I think that covers just about everything. I think many people out there have a little collection like mine. It’s just that many people don’t talk about it. But I think you should. It’s freeing to say ‘This is who I am. I’m still me’, and to let other people know there is nothing shameful in having mental illness. Many people do, and it’s only by talking about it and bringing it out into the open, that we can start to break down the stigma. Share your story with the world today.

#EndTheStigma #TimeToTalk.


I’ve Had Enough.



*Bad language*

I’ve hit an all time low today. I’ve come off of social media, and I’m splitting with everyone I know, barring family. I was triggered by someone’s attitude, and what I perceived to be someone defending them, and attacking me. I understand I could have misread the situation, but unfortunately my spiral had already started by then. And I now can’t shake the feeling like all my friends hate me. They are fed up with me. And they all want me to be silent. They don’t want me to have a voice or opinions.



Without going into too much detail, as I don’t want to make my blog political, I voiced a couple of thoughts on the state of Brexit. I was not making the comments to initiate debate or start arguments. It’s the last thing I need right now, with my decline in mental health. The person in question often shares and says things I don’t agree with, but she’s entitled to do that, without being attacked for it. I don’t comment on all her posts, looking for an argument. I restrain myself. I let it go. This does not seem to be the case for the person in question.



What it resulted in was me feeling attacked for my views…. it was implied I was in a minority with my views, and that the majority of people agreed with her and not me. She implied I was not listening to her opinion and wouldn’t accept differences of opinion, which is the furthest thing from the truth – I’m fully tolerant of others’ views, and resent that inference….. and by saying that everyone else she knows has given up talking about it, implied that I should also stop talking about it. Well I’m sorry, but if it’s the one thing that was keeping me going until my doctor’s appointment, and taking my mind off the crud that is my life………………. but you know what, that’s ruined now. Now I’ve cut myself off from everyone, will no longer focus on anything and will blindly hope I can survive two more weeks …alone.



She picks arguments on Facebook in front of my friends, trying to make me look bad. And although I know many of my friends did agree with my vote, I still feel shown up by her, and I’ve had that in my past, by someone I now consider my one and only enemy. It is absolutely not okay in my book, and it’s happened many times in the last few months. And on three occasions in the last two days, and it’s not okay. It’s wrong. And I am not only upset by it… it caused a lot of anxiety with flashbacks to my past, but I’m also rightfully angry about it. When it happened yesterday I simply made the post so only I could see it, so that I could still click the link and keep an eye on what it was I posted – which was the actual reason I posted it in the first place – for my benefit, not so someone could jump on it and make a point! So I felt I dealt with it well, considering how it made me feel and what it dredged up for me. I shouldn’t have to censor my own posts to avoid her jumping on them. I shouldn’t have to remove my posts because she’s commented on them negatively. But anyway I didn’t argue what she said. I realise there is no point. We’re polar opposites in viewpoints on politics. I can accept that, and she’s entitled to her opinions, and I would not attack her for them. I wish she could do me the same courtesy of allowing me freedom of speech, without going on the offensive, or defensive – whatever the case may be. It would probably be argued that she has freedom of speech to comment on my posts… but not if it’s going to make me feel like shit, I’m sorry. Not if you’re going to waltz in, say your bit and then sidle off as if I’ve just attacked you!



I have always made a point that I don’t care how anybody else voted. People have their reasons for voting either way. I don’t judge people. The only people I judge are those who have been vile and abusive since the referendum and the result. I will always speak out about that. And I will always hope that my friends will not be part of that crowd, who call Brexiters racists, xenophobes, stupid, uneducated OLD people, who have ‘ruined the lives of young people, just before they DIE and don’t have to deal with the consequences’. I will always point out to those people, you don’t want to be those people. Those people are bullies, and not very nice people. You can have your different views without resorting to abusing other people’s views. There are ways of expressing yourself without verbally vomiting on someone’s innocent post. You take the step back and think ‘How would I feel if someone commented like this on my personal post?’ ‘Live and let live’, means ‘live and let live’… it does not mean ‘live, disagree with the way someone else lives and comment on it, but let live’. I don’t go on her page, in front of all her friends and try to belittle her, or criticise her opinions.



Twitter was worse. I made a comment regarding a politician and something he’s said. And somehow it became all about her instead. I really don’t know how that happened. It had nothing to do with her, yet she swooped in, picked a fight, and then ducked out saying “dont want to talk about this anymore because my opinion isnt being heard anyway so what is the point.” I’m sorry – I didn’t post that to start a debate. I don’t want a debate. You can have an opinion without having a debate. It had nothing to do with her. She chose to disagree with me in extreme public, and then when I tried to explain my point to her, she took offence, shut the conversation down, went all passive aggressive and tried to make me feel guilty for not welcoming her argument – the argument I never asked for, nor was needed. For fuck’s sake!



I can’t handle it anymore. It’s got me into such a bad state of mind, that I’ve shut off caring about anything or anyone. I’m harming. I’m splitting – I’ve convinced myself that a mutual friend’s tweets were aimed at me, claiming that the other person had freedom of speech, and that I need to stop ramming my opinions down her throat as facts. I’m sorry…. I wasn’t aware I was doing that. I may be wrong about this last bit, but I feel so isolated now. I feel like they’re ganging up on me. And all the while my best friend hasn’t spoken to me for two weeks yet again. This has become a common occurrence since we fell out last year, and I feel it’s signalling the end. And I know you’d say ‘Why don’t YOU get in touch’, but that’s a whole other story for another time. I can’t reach out to anyone now. I feel I have rewound ten years. I feel as ill and as alone as I was back then. Nobody gives a fuck about me. People attack me when I was actually the victim. This seems to be a pattern. I’m hurt by someone and then people back that person up and hurt me further. And I am so fucking through with people.



I want to die right now. The world is getting smaller and darker, and nobody reaches their hand out to help me. Nobody treats me carefully. They all run in and trample on me, and then spit on my broken body on the floor, before waltzing off with their middle fingers in the air. I fucking hate people. That is how bad this has got. That is how ill I am. Nobody is my friend. Nobody likes me. Nobody cares. This is how they have made me feel.



I just wish people would be more considerate with their words and actions. I’m two stone throws away from rock bottom now. I’m sorry I can’t post helpful posts at the moment. Hopefully one day I can get back to that. If I ever get better.