Distractions are incredibly easy to find. Left and right, all it takes is a look, to find something that is so utterly self-destructive, and yet feels so damn good in the moment.
Some people take drugs, some lean to sex. Alcohol. Physical body harm. Eating disorders. I could go on and on.
They're all really just borrowed happiness. and yet nothing would compare to the euphoric feelings these stupid fucking distractions provide you with.
So fucking good.
No amount of therapy could change that, no amount of self-help posters. Nothing. It is simply a fact. It feels so fucking good.
Until it's over, and you're experiencing your fucked up life again.
And so the cycle goes on. It all makes sense.
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Moments of despair
Conto- How do you save a person that doesn't want to be saved? - A diary of thoughts that have followed me through my worst mental health days. Not everything can be perfect, and sometimes feelings of "giving up" arise within me.
