This is not a long boring post. This is not a poetic post. This is not a long english essay.
This is me, ranting.
Everything I do is never good enough. I get scolding for everything I do. Every single thing. I'm too happy off in my own world and I never pay attention. Or when I'm having a bad day and I don't feel like talking to anyone, that's a crime. If I study my bloody brains off until they explode and blood gushing everywhere and if I don't do well, its a crime. When I'm having an emotional breakdown, its a crime. Its annoying. I mean, its my emotions. I can't control them. How is it that having an emotional breakdown disturbing your life in any way. Okay and then when my brother doesn't do something he's suppose to do its totally fine. But when I miss a spec of dust its such a big crime
I just need someone to fall back on I feel like I don't have anyone for that and no one really understands how I feel. I feel so under-appreciated. I feel like my existance is just a waste of time. Waste of space waste of oxygen waste of everything. I hate how I feel such weight on my shoulders that I can barely stand upright. When I think back. I have no one but myself. No one would ever understand how I really feel.
I am my own therapist.
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