Kier (Joanie)

狛日

It worked, thank you so very much!! 💖

I miss talking about silly shit.
I miss being asked my opinion.
I miss being heard.

Hobestly, I haven't had that in years.

It's all so cute! 💖

Trying to live on less than $1000 a month in Massachusetts is fucking hell.

This has got to be one of the worst depressive days I've had in a long time. I can't stop thinking about how incredibly bleak, lonely, and uncomfortable the rest of my life is shaping up to be.

Originally I had a huge post written up on this, but I've decided against it...

And now she's literally pantomimed dancing and saying, "I'm free!" in reference to us splitting. I feel so fucking unlovable.

I've lost the person who knew me best. Who do I turn to when I need to be assured that I'm worth anything? It always meant the most from her when she lifted me up, because she knew even the ugly parts of me that literally no one else knew.

and none of it was enough, because I realized she'd been manipulating and emotionally abusing me for the last 10 years in which we took a step further to have a romantic relationship. I absolutely cannot fathom ever trusting someone enough to give even a fraction of that effort again.

I learned all of her insecurities and worked hard to break them down with her so that she could flourish; I defended her when other people talked shit about her, from friends AND family; I stepped out of my comfort zone to try new things in hopes of meeting her expectations;

I took care of her when she had a complete mental break down; I stuck by her through her self-harming and suicide attempt; I slept on her floor *multiple* times to care for her after several intense surgeries;

And of course, I don't think I will ever trust someone enough to give a real relationship a shot ever again. My childhood best friend of 25 years decided she's done with me.

I'm never gonna be able to own a pet. My favorite, a cat? Nope! I'm allergic, so even life with Mom's cats is going to be a wheezy hell of constant hand-washing. A rabbit? Fuck no, I'm totally incapable of remembering all the things I'd need to do to give a rabbit a good life, AND they're expensive.

Trying to live on $900 a month in Massachusetts is fucking hell.
I'll never be able to save up enough money to both afford to move out of my Mom's home AND have a safety deposit for a new apartment. Unless I win the lottery, I'm totally fucked.

It'slikely that once I've moved, Social Security will cut back on how much money I'm given to live on per month, and that's going to be such a fucking huge struggle when I'm already drowning in debts I can't pay. And that was true BEFORE Trump cut funding.

I'm moving back in with my Mom, which isn't a problem in itself, but then there's her two long-haired cats that I'm very allergic to. Like, VERY allergic.

I have all these plans for art I want to make once I'm finally out of this situation, but there are *dozens* of failed or abandoned projects that set a precedent of me giving up when I realize how shitty I am at said craft.

Aaaaand now I'm spiraling on the probability of dying alone and unfulfilled. 🙃

I hate this internalized whiplash. I desperately want to be doing something creative, but because I'm in a position where I can't do shit, I.mull over it for so long that I end up getting down on myself for the probability that I'll hate anything I make.

Thanks Rae 💖

I wish I'd never asked her out; maybe then I'd still have my best friend.

Pros to bsky: My ex isn't active on here... I think.
Cons to bsky: Even if I were to detail out every depressed thought in my head and beg for help, I'm pretty sure no one would say anything. Are my friends just missing my posts every time? Or am I too much? Fuck if I know. 🫠

I just wish fucking *anyone* would acknowledge that they can hear me...

I'm so tired of getting my hopes up, just to have it ripped out of my hands and shattered at my feet.

I don't even have unreasonable life goals. I just want to be more happy than sad. I want to not be disappointed in myself all the time.

Two more weeks. Just gotta get through two more weeks. It's gotta get better after that, right?

That feeling when I've been saying, "It's gotta get better after XYZ, right?!" for the past 10 years...

I want my life back.

Even if I *could* sit down with a sketchbook, I'd just hate anything I drew, and that might actually be the worst part.

I miss drawing. I miss creating. I miss designing. I'd rather be doing literally anything artistic right now. Instead im packing up the last 25 years of my life, wondering where the fuck I'll end up (metaphorically - I know where I'm going physically).

The only time I'm not alone is when she's sitting in the room with me, expecting me to put on a smile and pretend I'm fine and she's done nothing wrong.
...And even now, I'm still not saying half of what's going on. I feel fucking sick.