At some point, you realize reality is really hard to swallow.
You come to terms with how pointless everything really is.
How little you are and how no one will ever remember your name years from now.
You grow up with endless possibilities, imaginative plans and a false sense of, “I’m someone. One day I will do great things and be respected, sought after and regarded as somewhat of a celebrity…” you can just feel it.
You feel like something incredible is going to come of your life, and then …
and then it doesn’t.
You don’t become famous.
You can’t even keep up with your blog.
You lose sight of your dreams and the clouds part and you wake up fucking pissed off it’s another fucking day that you have to fucking drag yourself out of bed to fucking take another fucking shower under your fucking broken shower head that doesn’t quite get you clean to put your fucking “face” on … all FOR WHAT?!
To do something that you have no idea why or how you’re doing it, with people that most likely drive you fucking nuts.
The days when you try to walk in front of a bus increase almost as quickly as your waist size.
And the days of fantasizing about that cute boy across from you on the train growing a pair to ask you out for a drink become obsolete.
The thought of yet another forced conversation, sorry I mean interview, with a stranger just to end in what is now called “ghosting,” makes you want to vomit.
These are just a few of the things they never tell you.
Life fucking sucks.
You’re not special.
You’re nothing and so is everything in your life.
❤ Active Depression