This isn’t going to be the most cheerful of posts, mainly because I’ve been feeling quite down again.
I was thinking about how much I hate my life, and I realised I don’t; I have a great life, I have a roof over my head, parents that love and care for me and there’s always food in the fridge, and I have my own horse. I have more than most. I don’t hate my life at all, I am so greatful for everything I have, even if I’m not very good at showing people how much I appreciate them. I guess I realised that I hate myself, not the people around me, and definitely not my life. I am the problem, not them. And it’s completely unfair of me to blame my problems on them. They didn’t cause my depression. They didn’t make me start hurting myself. That was all me.
I hate that for so long I was trying to blame my sadnes on everyone else. But I’m glade I’m able to accept it. I wish I was a better person and showed all of my friends and family how much I love them, but sadly feelings aren’t a thing I’m good with.
Thank you for reading
The small quiet one X