It’s amazing how much a person can sleep when they’re depressed. I feel that all I do is sleep. The outside world is intimidating and scary and not a place I want to be. The smallest things exhaust me, even going down the street to get milk. I haven’t showered in days and I’m wearing the same clothes I’ve worn all week. And you know what? I really don’t care. I’ll probably wear them for another few days. My shirt has dried blood stains from a nosebleed I got last week and the collar is all stretched out. I shaved my head to keep from having to deal with my hair sticking out places. It’s really annoying though, that I have all these things I want to tell my therapist, but when I get to her office, I forget them all. Sometimes I write personal blog entries and email them to her when I’m really struggling, and that helps, but like the fact that all I’ve done since yesterday is sleep (although I did go to the grocery store!) will probably skip my mind when I see her next week.

I got really angry today. I don’t like waiting. I was selling some electronic equipment at this store and I had to wait for them to test it, and it took over an hour, and it was raining out so I wasn’t about to go wander outside, and I have no money so I couldn’t even go eat somewhere. It was hot in the store but I didn’t want to take my jacket off because of my blood stained shirt, and then they couldn’t get the stuff to work even though I knew it worked and my anxiety started to spike. Finally I got out of there and it seemed that everybody forgot how to drive because of the rain, and this asshole cut me off because he just had to turn left across the intersection in front of me when I was inches from his car and the only solution I found was to bite myself and start screaming because of all the pent up anger and frustration I was feeling. When I got home I had to park in a really tight space and I hit my bumper on the cement block again and I started punching the dashboard and I bit myself again and this time I broke the skin. I have been biting myself since middle school and while it used to be something I was ashamed of and hid, it’s not anymore. I always do it in the same spot and now I have a really bad bruise/mark that is very noticeable but I just don’t care.


About gabe126

I'm a 29 year old gay trans guy who lives in Philadelphia. Gabe is not my real name, well, it's my middle name, but for anonymity's sake, let's go with that. I hold bachelor's degrees in both music and special education, and I am currently 2 semesters away from graduating with my masters in special education and autism studies. I am disabled due to severe mental illness (bipolar disorder, depression, anxiety, and OCD). I play the trombone and piano, although it's been a few years since I seriously touched a piano. I have 5 tattoos and another one planned, I just don't have the money right now. Derek Jeter, former Yankee's shortstop, is my husband.
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