Right. I’m sorry for my last post. I was worked up and panicked.
My essay situation isn’t any better, I’m just coping. That or I’ve given up. Either way, I’m not having panic attacks about it any more.
I don’t feel like I can write freely on this blog anymore, which is heartbreaking. It’s such a help, but I now know for certain that my friend lied to me. They’re still reading now. I’m hurt, really hurt. I used to trust them more than anything, but that’s been broken now: shattered. I don’t want to believe it, but it’s true, and it’s like a knife being twisted and bent inside my heart. I only hope that whatever they get from reading this is worth it.
So I have a decision to make: persevere and try to forget them seeing what I write, or set up a new blog. Any advice would be gratefully recieved ❤
Due to these two things I'm rather depressed at the minute. Things just aren't going well. I still need to email people about my work, but I can't, I just can't do it. I don't want to read the replies of 'you should have done something sooner' and 'it's too late now, you'll just have to fail'. That's pretty much what happened last term. I couldn't focus, my work suffered, and my lecturer was less than understanding. My application for
an extension was rejected as well. Such support.
Well, life goes on. It always does. There are people there for me, even when I don't tell them anything, they're just… there. They just know. I don't know what I'd do without them. I owe them a lot.
I've been taking my pills. All of them: cardiac, blood and antidepressants. I'm kind of praying that if my health got better and I start to feel physically well, then my mind will perk up. I don't know, I just feel that there shouldn't be anything stopping me when my body's well. It's like I'm trying to convince myself that my mental illnesses are all in my head (which, ironically, they are, but you know what I mean).
I'm just trying to get through each day. I can feel my mind being stretched, almost physically: like there are little men who have put my brain on a rack and are just cranking it tighter and tighter. Sometimes it feels like it's about to break, and I'm scared. That's happened before. If it happens again, I fear it will mean the end of me as me. I just cry when that happens. It helps, just letting it all out. I have to breath and cry, and I'll survive. Because we all have to survive. We have too much to do with our lives to give up before we begin.
But how do we know when our lives are over? They sometimes finish before our natural death.