Because most of the times I'm crying these days I'm crying for her, for my younger self, who was never invited to cop raided parties, who slept alone in her tent in 8th grade. Crying herself to sleep while hearing others talk about her „she never cries, does she?"
Younger me, who thought she was ugly and uncool and fat, when really she was just a fragile soul, brainwashed by what society told, what her father said when she was 16 and even worse, his girlfriend who made her believe she was chubby when she was literally only 9 years old.
For her who was ignored by her best friend all of the sudden, not invited to the birthday party of the girl she had always supported and loved. This young girl who just wanted to be liked by her dad who moved out before she was born, who just wanted to feel he was proud of her for who she was. The girl that fell into depression, hating herself, cutting herself, not being rescued by anyone. The girl that developed an eating disorder because she thought she was fat while wearing a literal size S. The girl who always looks back at her younger self, wondering how she turned out this way, trying so hard to make a change, going to therapy, working out, fighting those sicknesses in vain. Depression is a horrible thing. You know each thing you'd want to change but really all you can do is sit by and watch as your life passes by with many missed chance. Regretting each one, trying so hard! Feeling better for a month at most, falling back into the horrible slope.
Going back and forth between eating the most and suddenly losing all hope, not feeling any desire for food anymore. Wanting to study so bad, wanting to have a new beginning in a different setting. But not having the energy and courage to fill out those forms, make that step, go that path, sign the check.
Feeling so stuck.
So stuck.
