i hate that people still refuse to accept the real me because of how much fucked up shit and misinformation was spread about me over the last two years… i guess i relate more to frankenstein than myself at this point, because what is the point anymore?
- i breathe; people still hate me and are wary of me.
like why do i keep doing just anything to myself? what is my purpose anymore, genuinely?
i push myself to be more open, to step out of the box i’ve locked myself away in for two whole fucking years because of the horrible lies and defamatory statements made about me that everyone ate up like candy and i still get rejected! even after the truth finally came out that i was and have always been innocent of everything— every horrible and disgusting thing, i was ever accused of saying or doing.
and it never fails to make me curl up in a big fucking ball and cry to the point i pray i just stop breathing all together and get taken out of the years of misery i’ve had to endure.
i hate myself more, because i can’t ever reach out to anyone due to the lingering paranoia that whoever i speak too, secretly loathes me because of everything and i worry that i’m bothering them or making them uncomfortable, etc etc etc.
it’s really just fucking criminal if i’m ever truly happy with anything i do and all i have inside me? is fucking guilt for things i never did, never would dare to say, endless amounts of accusations and blame directed at me and my own existence.
i hate myself, just when i think the sun is rising and i can move on… the fucking radiation burns from everything that happened over the past two years, just flares and feasters right back up.
i don’t ever want to wake up again if this is the constant state i’m going to end up in
