definitely maybe

I didn’t write anything yesterday. I thought about it last night, but played a video game instead. I told myself there is no point. I’m sad because two close relatives of mine have passed away this year, the rest of us are living through a pandemic, and I cannot get a handle on my own self-hatred.

My life keeps becoming harder. I’ve been assured that even though life becomes harder, I will become stronger. However, it seems that I merely become fatter and more depressed. I would be more accepting of this situation if the fatness and depression emboldened me a bit. I could handle not exuding the stereotype of a strong person if I at least felt strong, but I don’t feel that either.

I want constant attention, but have basically no one to talk to about my feelings. Now, I have this blog, but I don’t want to write about my feelings. That sounds hard and boring and like it would open me up to more judgement and judgement’s best friend, shame.

I guess I showed up today. Part of me feels like sabotaging because I missed yesterday. That’s the perfectionism talking. Don’t mind her. She’s a bit nosy.

I wrote yet another post that sucks. I desperately want someone to tell me this doesn’t suck, but how can anyone tell me that when nobody reads this? There’s a chicken and egg conundrum for you.

See you tomorrow.

Probably.

Most likely.