Burden

Dear Readers

Right now... I'm not in a good place. At all. Mentally I'm just... not good. I don't know when I'll be updating again. This goes for all of my stories but currently this is the only one I've actively worked on as a type of self therapy and it's just not working for me.

I'm... trying to find something to help me. So far the only thing that seems to help is my bed. Which in actuality doesn't help (and isn't a solution) because if I'm stuck in bed 24/7 (which I usually am) I can't work, I can't make money, I can't continue my education, I can barely go out in public. My entire social life is online. It's here. On this app. And in my Facebook messenger. I can barely make myself go out to pay bills.

I'm not going to die. This isn't some sort of "note" nor is it some misguided call for help because I'm already trying and normally I don't do stuff like this but I feel like I have some sort of ridiculous obligation to people looking forward to reading more of this... book... so, yeah. I'm not suicidal. Not my cup of tea. If there was a tea called suicide I'd probably pour it out. Not because I don't want to die. I just don't like the thought of killing myself. Doesn't work that way. My mind is a ridiculous one.

Obviously if you've read this story you've read some very... personal, things about me. Only slightly exaggerated because when I was young I was not hit that (as) often and if I did react to other people it was in a way that no one else would know (well, except for the peoples whose house i would stay at. I wouldnt touch anything. Would barely eat. Would try not to be the "burden" I knew myself to be. I always made sure to clean their house too. It was really awkward, being told not to clean but having the compulsion to do so and the internal panic of being denied that and then the internal freak out because what if she found out I didn't clean it or if I ate someone's food, but I'd just awkwardly laugh and nod while pretending I wasn't dying inside from the internal terror) of it. The long term affects of these things fuck with you for the rest of your life. I don't know how to be healthy. I don't know how to be normal. I most certainly don't know how to hang out with people very well. Nor do I have the patience to always dumb down my conversation.

I used to be very articulate with my words. Now I feel I've permanently affected my vocabulary and made myself an idiot with the way I've had to cut back on using words. Many times I've had to resort to caveman-speak, "You no do this. You need stop spending. You use too much money."

God I sound like a nag.

I've gone off on a tangent.

I digress. I don't know when I'll update. If I update. Maybe after I look for a doctor to examine my very fucked up brain. Believe me. You do not want to know what goes on in here. And the lighting is just terrible.

Bad joke.

Heh.

Regardless, this is my ridiculous information spiel that is probably absolutely not necessary because no one truly gives a fuck.

No. I'm not excusing my language.

No. I'm not petulant.

Okay maybe a little. I'll admit that much. Is it a bad thing? No. Not really. Not if you don't care.

Ignore all of that. It's full of cynicism and sarcasm and a bit of petulant behavior.

Ignore that too. That describes my entire personality. No use in denying it.

Damn. I just don't know when to stop. This is awkward now. At least for me. I could just erase all of this but I've put too much effort into typing it all to just go through the effort to erase it. One or two clicks and it will be published and all of you... *insert witty name, I can't think of any at the moment and I don't feel like coming up with one* will know I'm not entirely there. If you understand my insinuation.

Uh. So. That's that then. Enjoy my ramblings. Or don't. It's whatever. Damn I sound like an awkward teenager giving out his/her phone number to someone they like.

Bye now.