a vent because i hate everything right now. long post.
there must be something really wrong with me for getting so angry for no reason. i know normal, healthy people don't react like this. healthy people don't think like i do. they don't dwell on all these things that, in the end, don't matter at all. things that happened 5, 10, 15 years ago. they don't hold on to grudges and get 'stuck' in their anger. but i do and i hate it.
i don't see a way out of my current situation. there are things i could change but the steps to get there, it's too much for me. get new curtains? get decor for my apartment? get a gaming computer? clean the floors? do the dishes? get rid of electronics that don't work anymore? get a new mattress and pillow? talk to the landlord about a dishwasher? i'm always thinking about all the steps i need to take to achieve these things, simple things. what i need to do before actually doing the thing i need to do, if that makes sense.
a lot of these things seem pointless to me because i want to move. i hate my apartment. i've always hated it. i've lived here since december 2020. the first night i spent here, i noticed how noisy my neighbours are. but if i were to complain, they'd say it's just normal noise, because it is. but i'm sensitive. i don't care about noise from cars or birds but i don't want to hear the upstairs neighbour's toilet at midnight! i don't want to hear stomping from the kids! i don't want to hear them arguing so loud i can make out the words they're saying!
but i'm not going to say anything, because i don't want anyone to get angry at me. i feel like people are angry with me already, like i'm doing something wrong by just existing. i know that the landlord wants to renovate the apartment i live in but won't do it until i move out. i feel like people are staring at me and getting annoyed with me at the bus, in the street, grocery store, mall. i feel like i'm always in the way of other people. seriously, i think someone shouted 'hurry up' to me when i crossed the street once because i might have walked a little slow. but i hate being in a rush. . i feel like i'm always doing something wrong. no wonder why my dreams mostly consists of these locations.
i hate that i've gained weight. i hate my apartment. i hate how childish i am. i hate that i don't have friends. i hate that i don't know certain things that other adults do. i hate that it's the beginning of summer and already incredibly hot. i hate that i don't have a job (but even when i did have a job i hated it so much to the point of being suicidal), i hate that i don't look like the gender i identify as. i hate that i still haven't come out to my mom. i hate that i can barely say hello to people i know when i see them in public. i hate that i get angry at the smallest thing (like my bus ticket suddenly not working despite the fact that all the bus drivers have let me get on anyways). i hate that i need to take 2 different buses to visit my mom. i hate that i wasn't diagnosed with autism as a kid. i hate that i dropped out of film school when it was (and still is) my dream to be a director/screenwriter. i hate that i fucked up all the friendships i had in high school because i always felt left out and they didn't understand, i hate that i still have nightmares about it, i hate that journalling about my feelings has never helped me, i hate that therapy didn't help me and i hate that my therapist told me that my issues were 'too mild' for them to treat, i hate that i don't have a close relationship with my sibling, i hate that i'm always at home, i hate that i sweat a lot and nothing seems to help, and i hate that my life has been almost exactly the same since 2020.
i know i'm autistic, but knowing is only the tip of the iceberg. i needed it to be confirmed in order to get any help i can, but there also isn't any help for autistic adults, or there is, but the help that's been available hasn't helped me at all, if anything it made me feel worse. i keep thinking about things i could have done differently before. and i'm angry because no one noticed that something was wrong with me. i was suicidal when i was 14, but no one noticed. i was hurting myself but no one knew. i was just the shy girl that didn't like to hang out with more than one friend at a time, that usually sat alone at recess because i preferred it. i was invited to birthday parties, the movies and the beach and stuff but i was the spare friend. i wasn't the main friend for any of my friends. i was in a choir, but i never got any friends there either. i went to film school but i never had friends there either. i was alone, and i'm still alone. i was anxious then and i'm anxious now. no, time doesn't heal things, not in my experience.
i know i can ask my mom for help, but i don't want to bother her. she has enough going on already. she says i can ask, but i feel like i'm in the wrong for asking, because i know i'm supposed to know how to do stuff on my own. i should be able to get out and make friends on my own but i'm scared. i should know how to do the dishes, i should know how to shop for clothes alone. but i hate it. i hate life so much, and no one understands. even if they say they do. no, it doesn't 'get better'. yes, i know 'some people have it worse'. but saying those things doesn't work. it makes things worse. and sometimes i look at my scars and i want them to look worse. like mine aren't valid for not being deep. i know it's not a healthy thought. i know, but it's still there.
why is life so difficult all the time? why am i so anxious all the time? why am i hung up on everything that has happened before? i don't even know the purpose of this post. i know people won't respond, and i know i haven't gone into enough depth into this that i wanted to but i'm scared people will get angry at me. and that's how it usually is. i'm invisible. no one seems to care about me. i hate that i look 'fine' on the outside. i just get really angry and upset on the inside. there's a reason a little life is my favourite book, because it actually describes what i feel. it actually understands how i feel. i don't care that it's 'too depressing' and 'trauma p*rn' to some people. i can't just change my opinion on this book, just like i can't change my opinion of myself overnight. that's not how it works.
i know i should take a break from social media and actually go outside, but i don't know how to break the habit. i should exercise and eat healthier and talk to people and ask for help but i also don't want to. everything feels like a demand, even writing, something i enjoy so much. it feels like i'm doing something wrong for being inside when it's nice weather. i hate summer, winter, spring and fall. there is no 'nice weather' for me. it's all too hot, too cold, too bright and too humid. i feel like i have so much to say but i don't have the words for anything. i feel like i haven't really explained anything in this post. i feel like i'm just overreacting.
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