I’m so fucking upset with every single thing and I just want a hug.
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It seems the more I work on not hating myself, the more I end up hating myself.
I’m exhausted from people. My head hurts.
All I want is to go home, hug my dog, and wander around the woods on my horse until I feel human again.
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Feeling alone in a room full of people is one of the shittiest feelings ever.
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When I was little and got angry, I thought about running away all the time. All. The. Time. Something bad would happen (usually it was just me getting myself into trouble), and I would sit on my bed and figure out what I would need to pack in order to successfully run away. Usually it included food, money, a few toys, and a blanket to keep me warm at night. Then I would plot out my method of where I was heading (It was always to sprint down the street, cross Hagadorn, and go behind the grocery store, because I always had it in my head that there were woods behind there where I could live, even though there definitely weren’t). Sometimes I packed up my things, but I never once actually ran away- usually I just got distracted, or chickened out.
I’m 23, and I still think about running away all the time. All. The. Time. I’m thinking about it right now at work- how great it would be to just drop what I was doing, get the hell out of here, and not tell anyone where I was going. The supplies I’ve got ready to go would wow my 5-year old self: I’ve got almost $40 in cash (and a debit card!), a lunchbox with an apple and some granola bars, a sweatshirt to keep me warm, and a copy of Holiday Inn to watch wherever I go. I even have a CAR so I don’t have to physically RUN away! All I need to do is stand up, put on my backpack, and walk right out the door.
Five year old me would be disgusted with me for sticking around. Twenty-three year old me is disgusted, too.
LIFE HACK: disguise your nervous breakdown as a series of jokes
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