Why's The Depression Strong Right Now

i hate this, I don't want to start over

debating to post on my art blog but it's sh art. like, I dunno man, some irl's follow that account.

i don't wanna speak, I don't wanna do any form of communication, I don't wanna type or write, I don't wanna talk. i don't wanna move. i don't wanna do anything.

again.

again.

again.

i just want to not exist, just wanna lay and rot, just wanna die.

“I love you.”

No you don't.

me, putting my pants back on and realizing, oh, I did gain. again.

its in my head that everyone hates me and will ignore me when I'm in an episode because that's what fucking happened today. i was right im always right about this, it always happens and I know it will happen. they will always ignore me. they don't care, they will always choose each other first before me.

I need to stop going deep on my arm, its gonna bite me back in summer

well, mom now knows about the scars on my upper arm (which are deep styros and barely baby beans) and oh yay.

she seems these as "too far" (she thinks some should've had stitches. like no? they weren't deep enough for that)

i had to explain to her that I don't care how this affects others (like, you're not being physically cut into so like, why should it matter how it affects you? emotionally? try again, I don't care about that)

I had to "promise" not to do that deep again (I will) <-but will have to be careful because I dont want to be strip-searched.

downside, I have some deep ones on my forearm and near wrist that she doesn't know (that might cause a strip-search if she sees those, which fucks me over because my thighs are the worst place)