Yeah, its lingering. It's not just a one night situation. Why does this have to happen now. Right before the holiday. I mean last night was tough, but to wake up to pretty much a groundhog day of it was worse. I mean I am keeping it together. I even did my hair AND makeup just to try and make myself feel a little better. The depression has set it. Fire away is on repeat. And like usual he doesn't see it. Or he doesn't care. Or both. He is always been a creature of doesn't care. Don't care how I make you feel. Don't care if your mad. Don't care if your going through something. I just try to be bold faced. No crying. No sadness. No weakness. It makes it worse I'm sure and no he isn't a monster. I know deep down he does probably care. I hope. But who knows I'm not him. I just know how I operate. Don't show any emotion. Any weak emotion at least. I don't really know what else to say. I'm upset. I'm empty. I'm sad. I'm angry. I'm lonely. And I have no one to talk to about it. Just put on the regular face and keep it moving. Let it out in the shower. Then back to no weakness. It all blows over with me and Dre. It does every single time. But in it it feels like forever, because as previously mentioned, I have NO ONE ELSE. He does. It's just me and my thoughts. With myself. And that's all. I am just so lonely. That's all for now. Not much else to say. I think we all get the point.
Now I don't wanna come off like a total cliche, but I'm not starting this "blog" to be read by millions and inspire. I'm mostly starting this to just be a brain dump. A journal or sorts. Or if you want to be really corny, a diary. Sometimes I just get this overwhelming feeling that I need to get things out and due to turning into a complete introvert after 30, I am seriously lacking impartial people to talk to about things as they are all family at this point. So here we are. Since a preteen, I have loved writing. I have loved reading since even before then which I'm thinking lead to my love of writing. I also have a love for typing as weird as that is. There is something satisfying about typing at a satisfactory speed with no mistakes. Weird, again. Nevertheless, this is what this is. And if you have somehow found yourself here, to which I would be completely surprised, welcome to this mind. My mind. It complicated. It can be dark and twisty (yes I am a HUGE ...
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