Well, a week. It feels like a long time to have not needed to write though. I guess that means I haven’t needed to, which is good.

I need to now though. Nothing important. Just me.

I’ve been on my own in the house for a week now. It’s fine, it’s tidy and quiet. I can practice whenever without worrying about disturbing work. I can eat broccoli. It’s good. I’ve been busy during the days; I’ve had an outdoor first aid course which was great fun, I’ve been carolling, I’ve been Christmas shopping, I’ve met up with friends, I’ve done my work.

I don’t know why I’m feeling depressed at the minute. It’s the nature of it though isn’t it; it can just happen with no trigger. I’m seeing my new psychologist again today. Should be interesting.

I’m trying to talk normally about things and it isn’t working. As a rule I try to not get rid of anything I’ve typed (even if it’s nonsensical), what would the point in that be. It would defeat the point of this blog. I feel depressed. I feel unwanted. I’m tired. I’m fed up. I don’t have the energy to want to do something, let alone actually doing it. I want someone to just hug me and say it’s ok, it’s ok to feel like this, because that’s what people never do. They don’t because it’s not ok, it’s really not ok, nobody should feel like their life is worthless so why do we. Why do our minds do this to us. Why do they then stop us from being able to talk and seek help.

I’m typing this with a huge weight pushing me down. It hurts. I want to be able to open up to someone and for some good to come of it.

I feel like I’m slowly giving up and dying inside.

For no reason.

I want to feel normal.

And loved.

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