Depression comes from a very narcissistic place, weirdly enough. You have to be pretty damn self-involved to hate yourself.

“I love myself so much I fucking hate everything about me.”

It’s an exhausting way to walk the planet.

I’m worn out, I really am. You can’t be this sensitive and not become full of anger. It comes from a place of empathy, but that empathy becomes debilitating. I care about you before I care about me. And when you don’t care back, I get mad. 

I’ve done a lot of bad things the last ten years out of hatred for myself.

I turned 34 on Thursday and I’ve never been more unsure of who I am. Mostly that’s because I’m working so hard to figure out the answer and knowing at the same time that there is no answer.

I just want to be happy. I want to stop being so hard on myself. I want to feel like my core is good again.

I just want to feel inside the way I know I should.

Complete. 

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