I’ve been neglecting my writing as a way to avoid reality. I keep trying to convince myself that my problems cannot truly exist if I don’t acknowledge them; too bad that is untrue. I can feel myself deteriorating slowly. My mental health has gotten worse. My actual health is worse and I keep avoiding going back to the doctors. I’m afraid. I am truly afraid that it will turn out to be Lupus, and I have witnessed too many friends try to battle it. I don’t have their strength. I could not handle it… So each day as I continue to get weaker, I just prepare myself. For some reason, I have accepted death. I feel as though I have no more fight in me. I barely recognize myself anymore. I look in the mirror and the girl looking back at me is not the girl I used to know. It seems as though I am staring at a stranger. I am a stranger to myself. I feel so lost, and so hopeless. I have no motivation.
You know your “luck” is bad when even people around you can’t help but comment on the bullshit that consumes your life..
Another thing that I have become aware of is the fact that I just want love. I want affection yet I fear falling too hard and being hurt, so I try to replace affection with attention. They are two completely different things though, and one definitely does not fill the void of the other. I need to stop making myself feel as though I have an obligation to fulfill for men, because it’s not true. I don’t owe them anything.