I Baked and Stuff

So my last post was a little rage filled. This happens from time to time, but overall I think it was a good thing. That guy pissed me off.

I was pissed.

I felt something other than suffocating emptiness and inescapable Doom.

You think that sounds cliche don’t you? Yeah. Try it sometime. Then judge me.

Anyways, it made me think about something. Why, when someone I know that struggles with depression, gets attacked for their “weakness” is it so easy for me to rush to their defense? Why do I know, so strongly, that they deserve credit for even continuing to be alive….

But when it’s me that’s on the low, all I do is give myself shit? What the fuck self?

How can I look at someone who is the mental mirror image of myself and be filled with awe and inspiration at their choice to continue existing, and then look at myself and see nothing but failure?

I can spend 99% of my day in hysterical tears, crying the sort of ugly cry that only crazy people can aspire to, and what will I do with that little 1%? Bitch at myself for not doing the dishes.

The fucking dishes. Because that’s totally something worth mental self flagellation. Obviously I have some issues.

I shall work on this. In the meanwhile, I baked things for my husband.

Cuz I’m the shit. The crazy self intolerant shit.



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