What’s real and what’s not?

You are the most critical person that you know. Constantly berating and questioning every thought that runs through your own head. Did you know that he human mind thinks up to 70,000 thought per average day? That equates roughly to 48 thoughts per minute. Now imagine if practically every one of those thoughts is met with: ‘you’re wrong/ you’re doing everything so wrong/ everyone hates you before you even say anything/ no one values you or your opinions anyway’. You have been thoroughly ridiculed before even opening your mouth.

Now imagine feeling that way while dealing with a situation like this one. I’m not a very open person, I don’t feel close to anyone in particular, friendship wise, family or romantically I feel that there is something wrong with me in that regard, totally isolated in a respect. It’s apparent. People roll their eyes when I talk, I am always accused of being hypersensitive, but no, actually. No. I am not a stupid person and I am observant. This time is hard enough without that critical voice, and I do wonder, is depression now magnifying everything? Yeah everyone has their own shit to deal with, but right now, don’t I deserve a few fucking minutes to try and rebuild my mind, by myself, without needing to be frigging hypnotised? Yes it does help, but my god really? Has this made me that god damn weak that I need a trained professional poking around in my subconscious? Am I really this weak, depressed waste of space that I am currently identifying as? I believe that everybody sees me as that, hardest time of my life and I’m sure it’s gossiped about, or spoken about, like I should be over it.

I was speaking about it once, upset, and this was actually said back: ‘yeah, I wasn’t the only who raped you was I’.  Apparently that’s support. Even taken out of context, whatever, that was said to someone who still cries themselves to sleep over what happened, someone who has to retrain themselves to just sit on that fucking sofa, that was said.

Depression, PTSD, down in the fucking dumps, whatever, it’s me isn’t it. The one left with the life sentence. So tell me, in what world is that fair?


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