Being a Burden
- Reads 49
- Votes 4
- Parts 1
Ongoing5m
Last published Fri, Aug 4, 2017
When you have anxiety and depression, those who don't struggle with itdon't understand how hard it can be. Even if you only have anxiety, it's a struggle to get through the day. When you're always worrying about everything, it's exausting.
The thing about anxiety is you care too much, and with depression, you don't care at all.
After dealing with it for so long, you start to believe that you're going to be like this forever, even though peeople constantly tell you that things are going to get better.
What if things never get better? What do you do then? Do you give up? Do you keep fighting? I don't know. I honestly have no idea.
When people keep trying to encourage you and it never works, you start to feel like a burden. You start to believe you are a burden.
I am convinced I am a burden.
If you don't already know, that's not a good feeling, because you feel like you're unworthy of the people in you're life, like they're only around you because thy pity you.
My name is Brooke Eira, and I am a burden.
All Rights Reserved
Join the largest storytelling communityGet personalized story recommendations, save your favourites to your library, and comment and vote to grow your community.
You may also like
After Senior Year.
June 30th, 2014. My life has always been a mess. From bullies constantly pushing me to the ground to my family pulling me in so many directions I begin to fall apart. This isn't just about all the terrible things I've dealt with, but also the amazing times I've had. Late nights out with my friends and great laughs reading my favorite books past sunrise. This is my life journal after I graduated. It's filled with some normal and not so normal everyday struggles. If your life isn't story worthy are you sure you're living it right?Complete
To Be Broken
What does it mean to be broken? (I wrote this poem myself) ______________________________ Why be sad? When no one knows how bad You feel your Pain makes you sore. Why be mad? When no one can tell How hard you fell How it hurts MORE than a tad. Why be happy? Be like all those sappy People pretending to be What they want you to see. Why be frightened? Senses heightened Screaming, As sick people are beaming. Why be tired? When no one knows How your wired How you grow. Why be honest? When all known is a broken promise When no one believes you Even if what you say is true. Why hurt? When no one feels your pain When no one's ever alert When you never feel sane. Why pretend? When you know in the end No one will be there Because no one cares. Why care? When no one cares enough for you To know what your going through They think your heart is unfair. Why try? When no one sees that you do They just pry Thinking they know more than you. Why speak? When no one will ever hear They'll say you're a freak They don't see a single tear. Why do anything at all? It's not like anyone will see If you fall If you scream. ____________________________________ "Just admit it Winter. After the whole accident....your broken." "No...No that's where your wrong. I'm not broken. Because to be broken, you had to have been whole in the first place."Complete
Levels of Stress
Pain. Depression, anxiety, insomnia, panic disorder - it wasn't a lonely feeling, but one that wouldn't hesitate to rip your heart open. I know that personally. It's always been difficult to tell people. I can't tell my friends, my family, and certainly not therapists. That's why I've created a system that I call my 'Levels of Stress' and have saved my 10... that is up until now. ***Warning: contains triggers, graphic violence, and a lot of deep, raw emotions. It has parts of entries from my journal during my worst period, the parts that I never thought about sharing until I realized how I could relate it to others.***Complete
Catastrophically Carla (Lesbian Story)
Ages 14+ (lesbian concepts and some profanity) This is not your everyday love story, okay? It's not a chick flick either. The events and themes within my pages have meaning, depth, truth-and most of all, reality. You are about to be taken on an adventure about a girl who's life is not like everybody else's. I look like a normal teen girl, I mean, I have hair and two eyes and two hands and feet like everybody else, but I couldn't feel more different. I have two moms, yes. Let's just get that out there before you start reading and close my diary like everyone in my life has shut me out of theirs. All I want is a normal life with normal friends who don't judge me because of my home situation. I don't even remember the last time I went on a sleepover or called somebody my age. I don't mean to be a downer, because it does get better. Life gets better. Struggles are only temporary, I know that now. And by my last words reach your eyes, I've come a long way, and have grown to see potential in myself. I'm sharing this with you because I want to make a difference. I know now that I'm not the only one in the world that feels alone. I've been there, done that, and there's more loneliness to come, but for now, I feel more prepared for it. I know how it feels to sit by yourself at lunch every day and how it feels to watch others go to prom with dates and feel like shit because you don't think you'd even have any friends to go with. Please ready my diary. I am much older now, and much more wiser, and I can't wait for you to realize the potential in yourself, too.Complete
Four Days in Recovery
When anxiety and depression hits you like a hurricane, you have tunnel vision. You can't see anything, but what's happening in front of you. You can't think straight, and you can't process what's going on or why this is happening. Then all of a sudden you're stuck, and you get sent away to recover from the battle you've been fighting for so long.Complete
Someone New ✓
"There comes a point where you no longer care if there's a light at the end of the tunnel or not. You're just sick of the tunnel." - Who I am doesn't matter. How I got here doesn't matter. What matters now is I'm getting help, right? That's what they tell me here. They tell me that the road to recovery feels like a terrible butt fuck, but the fact that you're on the path to begin with, is all that matters. So as I sit in this circle of fuck ups, I realize just how different I am from them. I didn't attempt suicide because my mother was a crack addict who didn't want me. My father wasn't abusive. I didn't have a sibling die in a car accident. I was never really bullied either. I attempted suicide because, for the first time in years, I thought I had found something that could make me feel again... and after not feeling much at all for far too long, perhaps I went a bit overboardComplete
Cold Water
[BWWM] I was only twelve years old when the world turned cold. The day my mom died in that car accident, I felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over my heart. My dad, who had always been my hero, suddenly became a stranger, filled with rage and blame. He couldn't see that I was hurting, too; he only saw me as a reminder of his loss. The accusations cut deep. He said it was my fault for being there, for not doing something to save her. For being the reason she was in the car in the first place. In the years that followed, things only got worse. The abuse started gradually-a harsh word here, a shove there-but it escalated, leaving scars that I carried long after the physical pain faded. I was drowning in my own despair, struggling to keep my head above water while my father's anger raged like a storm around me. I only had a break from his anger when I started living with Aunt Dina-my mom's older sister. Well, that was because she found me nearly dead on my bed after I took a dozen pills. I was tired of living. I had hit rock bottom. The harsh whispers that followed me around and the stares at school. I pretended not to notice, like it didn't bother me. But it did. I was alone. Then came Athalia, a ray of sunshine cutting through my darkness. With her, I felt something I hadn't felt in years-happiness. She became my light through the darkness and my lifeline. ••••••••••• ● Warnings ⚠️ ~ Mention of suicide ~ Anxiety attacks ~ Rape attempt ~ Mention of self-harm ~ DepressionComplete
Fix Me, I'm Broken
Walking into an empty house is normal to me. I guess I got tired of saying 'I'm home' when nobody is home to reply. It wasn't always like this. I remember when our family was close. Now we don't see each other any more. We don't talk to each other. We don't eat with each other. We don't ACKNOWLEDGE each other. This all happened after my 'Mother' killed herself. My father blames me. This is my story about how I learned to not count on anyone else but myself. I'm broken. I'm used. No one can fix me. But when the New Boy in town tries to fix me, everything will change. Good change or Bad change, I don't know. Only time will tell. I want to enter this story in the #Wattys2015 please help me out and vote and comment on my story. I'll really appreciate it!!! #Wattys2015 COPYRIGHTED © 2014 BY Anallely ALL RIGHTS RESERVED ®Complete
June 30th, 2014. My life has always been a mess. From bullies constantly pushing me to the ground to my family pulling me in so many directions I begin to fall apart. This isn't just about all the terrible things I've dealt with, but also the amazing times I've had. Late nights out with my friends and great laughs reading my favorite books past sunrise. This is my life journal after I graduated. It's filled with some normal and not so normal everyday struggles. If your life isn't story worthy are you sure you're living it right?
More detailsContent Guidelines