Hard to breath

I don’t know. Like there is no room to for me to breath any more. Like suddenly everyone is actively trying to stop me from breathing. What the fuck is going on around here?

Workplace is too noisy. I fucking swear it is. At any given point there would either be someone whistling or laughing or talking or telling jokes or fucking singing. And sometimes it’s all one person. And sometimes it’s fucking right next to me. WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?? It’s fine if it’s the occasional banter or if your favorite song is playing but an ENTIRE DAY is unacceptable. My brain is having enough trouble as it is to concentrate, I don’t need someone sitting just half a meter from me to fidgeting and whistling all day long. Nobody in their right mind would put such a person sitting right next to me just to “liven it up”. Goddamnit. And what’s worse? Everyone seems to be just fine with it and if I raise it up I would be just a stuck up soab who just there to kill the fun. You know what? Fuck your fun.

Getting too emotional lately. Mostly coming from the fact that I’m having yet another crush on someone. And while this time it does have its moments but again, it all comes down to be just me dreaming it all up. Is it wrong to want someone who cares about you as much as you do them? Is it wrong to be upset when it’s just you trying to achieve something? Is it right to demand someone to change when you can’t seem to understand why they are where they are? I don’t know. I just don’t know. I am by no means a good person. I am a sick soab. I want people’s attention like a 5-years-old and cry like one when I don’t get it. And no, not people, just one person. I want that person to appreciate the fact that I want to be with HER when I’m down. It’s not like I would just go to anyone when I’m troubled. I am running out of friends. People are moving on with their lives. I have no life to move on. I want to be dragged along. I’m lost when left alone. I want the right person to ask me what’s wrong. I want, I don’t know, a hug? A hand to hold? Or at least just show up. I have nothing. When I’m at rock bottom it’s because I sank there, not because I dived. So please pull me up. Don’t just stand on the shore calling me over. I won’t. I can’t. And I am too proud and too shy to admit any of this. I am afraid of letting people know I’m just that weak. Everybody keeps telling me to happy yet nobody shows me what the fuck “happy” means. Keeps telling me to change yet nobody want to accept who I really am. Isn’t trying to change to please people the root cause of depression? Like wearing a mask to hide your face. People love the mask and hate the face. And they only want the mask. As long as I can supply jokes, food and brainpower, I am supposed to be fine. Nobody wants to touch the muddy waters below, yet that’s where I am. As long as the bubbles are still rising, they assume I would be fine down there.

Until the bubble bursts.

I can’t breath.


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