cry moar, titface
Depression is sort of weird because sometimes you just wake up and you can't even function and for no reason you can even think of you have to do stupid shit like call in sick to work and cry when the guy that you swear to god you love unconditionally tries to touch you and sometimes you just need to lay there for hours and pretend that you're not you and that you're not stuck in this body that you've ruined and ruined and ruined because you're selfish and silly and capricious and then you wake up the next day and haul your ass out of bed and realize that you slept all funny for way too long and you have a million cramps but you still need to make yourself function because your selfish lie-in day left a little Allison-hole where you need to fit so that other people who aren't miserable sods can keep on keepin' on and you thought you were done feeling this way, thought you saw what progress looked like, only now you're pretty sure that that was just a farce like the smile you're wearing on the subway in your scrubs on the way to work hating how tight your hair's pulled back so everyone and their sister can clock your fat fucking face and your fake fucking smile and sigh a little inside because they're not the only one whose life is crumbling underneath their heavy hand.