I really don’t feel like paying a person to talk to them about my past and see what the issues are, so I guess I’d rather do it myself.
For free. Badly.
I’ve been thinking about the times in the past that I have been happy. The 90s were an easier and happier time for me. Meeting my husband and moving out of my Nana House was happy. When I was doing magazine stuff and going out and talking to people made me happy.
I’m trying to understand my horrible depressed moody mind so I don’t fall in the same old trips.
Here I am again. Here I am again. Writing on the stupid blog because my fucking brain doesn’t want to cooperate anymore. This is stupid. And everywhere I freaking look there wants to be someone who has killed themselves over mental illness. That has stabbed their children. I don’t know what is going on. I don’t know if the universe is telling me to go stab my child and husband. Or I kill myself. I know it’s not saying that. But what the fuck. I am going crazy and I don’t know how to stop this roller coaster.
PS. I’m not gonna kill my husband child but God dammit.