i don't particularly like me at the moment.
and it's not superficial, nor will wise words stop the dislike.
i don't like that i'm always angry. angry at the smallest things.
i don't like that i'm unmotivated, that i don't care about anything.
i don't like that i'm unfriendly, unapproachable.
i don't like that i feel like i'm living in a prison, and i'm the one with the keys, a huge bunch of keys, but i keep using the wrong one.
i don't like that i have so much on my mind but can't find any words.
i don't like that the ugliness inside is showing on the outside.
i don't like that i can decide when i wake up in the morning if i want to be happy or grumpy and 9 times out of 10 i choose the latter.
i don't like that i'm unworthy of anything, anything at all. good or bad. just this. nothing.
i don't like my blog anymore. because i want to write here, all the time, about everything. but not everything is always sunshine and giggles and i don't like that writing here gives permission for judgement and for people to tell me i'm not that bad, or that it's up to me to fix this. when all i want to do is write.
i don't like that i assume people will read this and roll their eyes. and judge. or give me advice.
i don't like assuming. that i assume, or that others do it about me. all.the.time.