Yesterday I had a heart to heart with my friend. We talked about our pasts.
Well, I talked at her about mine mostly.
I was a very messy teenager. I selfharmed for 8 years, my head just wouldn’t sort itself out. I was on various medications over this time, I attempted suicide at least twice. I was never hospitalised but I was threatened with it by three medical professionals in one day. It was hard. I was a screw up. I was wired all wrong. I was just a complete mess.
I don’t really like labelling people. I don’t like labelling kids anyway. I had the label of “clinical depressive” for years. It gave me an excuse to be a twat. The real excuse is that I am just a twat sometimes. Everyone is a twat sometimes. Sometimes we need to just get over it and move on.
Today I’ve been feeling a bit down. Nothing more than the usual bump in the road, but a bit down none the less. I can’t get my head around my writing. The ideas are there but they’re stuck there. I can’t seem to say anything worthwhile. I can’t get anything done.
This is normal.
Tomorrow, it will all be fine.