The last thing I feel like doing is writing this post. Right now I hate that I have this blog. I hate that I am where I am. Hate hate hate HATE.
I’ve been so foggy headed the last week, to the point where I stupidly have to use it as an excuse for missing an assignment deadline. Yeah right Hayley you stupid lazy turd. You should be able to handle yourself better than this. You’ve been dealing with this so called disease for years now, you should know better.
I don’t want to talk about how I’m feeling right now. I don’t want to whinge and moan about poor old me, riding this stupid emotional rollercoaster. So what. Why should any one else have to give a toss about me when there are literally millions of people who deal with this daily, or even worse crises. What right do I have to put this on anyone elses’ shoulders. Suck it up you stupid bitch.
I don’t want to talk about all this matter-of-factly. I don’t want to talk about how I was all foggy brained self depricating humour up until an hour or so ago. I don’t want to admit that suddenly an hour ago I started tearing up watching a stupid reality TV show, followed by projecting all my own lifes dramas to a stupid crappy drama show. I hate that I feel welled up with tears for just about no reason and that I feel irritable beyond belief. A stupid braindead fuck of a friend got a kitten today, and I’m sure it wasn’t from a rescue group and I’m sure they’re going to let it out during the day and night not even thinking about the implications for wildlife. Because they’re particularly ignorant worthless humans. And I just want to kick the living shit out of them for standing for so much that is fucked about the world.
And then I think about that. And I think about all the other shit that is wrong with the world. And it’s all so big and bad and absolutely positively unstoppable, and there is crap all I can do to stop it. So what good is hating and dreaming of punching the stupid out of sprawling pestilent humanity. Thoughts of taking the agony of life from myself creep in. But please don’t worry about me. I am far, far too much of a coward to act on those feelings, and I don’t think that those I love deserve the grief that my death would cause. And as sick as it is, there’s a corner of me that sadistically relishes in knowing I feel so low. Because the fact that I am as worthless and hopeless to fixing the shit in the world that goes on means that these sweeping, soul crushing lows are as effective a punishment as cutting.
This is a crap blog for anyone to read. And I’m so sorry if that upsets or concerns any of you. Like my last post stated, this blog is a thousand times more about self serving egotism and trying to get some of this bile and plaque from my mind than it is about entertainment. I am NOT a good writer. I just manage to spew thoughts faster than I can think them through.
I don’t want to blame any of this on drugs. I don’t want to let myself off that easy. It is just so much easier to put this down to being genuinely fucked in the head. I don’t deserve any special consideration for this, because this is just one of the deepest facets of who I am.
I am Hayley Smith, and there’s a good chunk of me that is one of the most pessimistic, useless and self-obsessed people on the planet.
…I don’t want to post this. All of a minute later and I feel like I’ve had another massive moodswing. I don’t know what has happened in my brain the last few hours, but it’s not pretty. And I feel so, so self-righteous and arrogant suggesting that my crappy behaviour is indicative of any other sufferer of depression. What would I know. But at the same time, I committed to posting this journey, even if it is just for myself and maybe my psychiatrist to read. So I’m sorry. Have a piece of chocolate if you forced your eyes to read this. Hug a puppy. I need this here, but what I hate more than anything is the idea that this mental bullshit I spout would upset anyone else. The world is fucked, but I don’t want to be the vinegar that spoils someones ability to see the good in it.