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i really, really wish i could tell my boyfriend my deepest, darkest secrets. infact, i just wish i could scream it out at the top of my lungs sometimes. i can’t tell anybody though, it’s serious, and far too personal. how would i even bring that conversation up? ‘hi, this happened to me a few years ago. it has fucked me up a little’. it’s not like anybody would believe me anyway. well, my mum knows. i had to tell her. only when she questioned me about it though, and that was years after it had happened.
FUCK.
every day i hear about how peoples lives are ’so bad’, how people are ruled by depression because their cat died or some ridiculous reason. i’m NOT an attention seeker, that’s why i don’t tell people my story. but sometimes i just wish i had the chance to speak out, just relieve myself of the shit that i’m carrying with me everyday.
my life is okay, i’m not fucked up or anything. but sometimes i think it has affected me a hell of a lot more than i thought it had. why does nobody care about my life? why is everybody so wrapped up in their own god damn lives to care about anyone or anything else?
the only person i could probably go and talk to is a doctor, or a counsellor. fuck that.
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