**WARNING: this is another not-positive post. It’s essentially word-vomit, an emotion-dump. Just trying to cope with being a human, I guess.**
life ain’t for everyone. i’m having serious doubts that it’s for me.
I am in desperate need of black magical girls, trans magical girls, disabled magical girls, fat magical girls, hijabi Muslimah magical girls… I need all of the magical girls.
Also, black witches with afro puffs sticking out from under their pointed hats.
I need it.
As the old saying goes, “If you fuck with me, you stuck with me.”
I honestly think escapism, more than anything else, is what has kept and what is keeping me alive.
Is it physically possible to be “made of sad”? Because I think I am.
This is me giving you a hug. Unless you don’t like hugs, then this is me giving you a high five. Unless you don’t like to be touched, then this is me giving you a thumbs up.
Long story short, I love and support you. ❤️
If I’m being honest, my depression (which I’ve struggled with even accepting as real) has worsened to the point of me actively being inactive. I am sabotaging myself. I don’t have a job and am not looking for one… My health is worsening and I’m doing nothing about it. I don’t have money for meds and I don’t have insurance or anything for therapy. Life is kind of torture right now but I honestly have no clue what to do about it… What to do with myself, even.
I’m obsessed with the idea of being something, but I have no idea what that something is.