Not Okay

Ignore this post if you're expecting an euphoric chapter of my story. Apologies for killing your assumption.

If you're going to ask me how I'm doing, here's a frank answer - I'm not okay. To shut my mouth is what I really want right now, but this enormous urge of mine to erupt my hiding heartache is overpowering my wanting. I don't want to brag neither complain about my shit that cause joyful humans to lose their smile & tear up, so please leave my blog for a second. Like I said, I created this blog also for my own necessity, it acts as my emotion's major egress, aka I'm spilling crap so I could at least breathe better. So for the sake of everybody's mood, delete this tab & go for a walk. Don't want to spoil the day of yours.

Alright, just me here right? Time to reveal the skeleton in the closet (I swear this is hard). I recently relapsed, and it was pretty much in awful shape. The reasons I chose to not tell, but it tumbled me back to day one. Mia befriended I, and I could sense Ana spending a visit soon. Like, really? Even my conscious mind had a clear vision that I was over them. All the gym commitment being frittered away? Gosh it's drowning me. I'm exceedingly tired of whining my crap to the peeps around me, plus to be honest, the feedback I receive sometimes are not the ones I hope to hear. So here I am, writing to chill myself as I have nowhere to punch a hole. Especially when you meet bummers who say such humans just whine for awareness. If you're one of them, go to hell.

Losing 4.5 pounds in 2 days doesn't seem so bad. Let it continue for a month or so, and I'll hit the point below the line. Half of my sense compellingly disagrees with such occurrence, yet the other half unconsciously clicks. If you understand how this bull works, you could probably relate the helpless state I currently float in. What hurts more to know is the response I got from my parents. I don't even bother to find aid anymore after hearing what they spat at me. It's just, stuff that you could never expect blabbering out from your guardians.

"You better not have it (depression). If you do, just leave the fam." There she said it, words that could never be erased. How does the world assume that I could obtain a real helping hand when my nearest & dearest lives fail miserably to accept who am I, or what I've become? Don't even get started with the source. There you guessed it, a source whom couldn't accept its doings. Out of the random, listening to Kodaline's High Hopes while gently spamming the keyboard annihilates my inner being so bad. Yes, grasp onto them high hopes, hopes with insights blurred. Hopes to stop the beeping monitor.

You're still here? What the heck. Just listen & grant me peace aites. I'm just gonna end it here before I continue to ruin your day with gloom. Nights.