Sometimes, I ask myself whether I am addicted to being sick and wonder how sick that is.
How ironic is this seriously, I really hate this feeling of being so reliant on something so external and
fake to look for support (emotional/physical) and identity. It is as if the real me doesn't exist.
Oh, wait, it really doesn't exist.
I haven't found my real self in a while. It is really tiring and I feel like giving up.
I think I have said this so many times but I havent mustered the courage to really do what I am
planning at the back of my mind.
No comments:
Post a Comment