Can Someone Pretend To Be Proud Of Me For Only Having A Bit Of Missing Work My Mom Isn't And Now I'm

can someone pretend to be proud of me for only having a bit of missing work my mom isn't and now i'm sad

Phone's on 1 guys help

age old debate in my head, "can I use japanese/Spanish things"

can you magic the strabismus away or the blindness please

holy shit sometimes I just think about the fact that no one in my fucking life is EVER going to take my anxiety seriously. like holy shit. not my family or my friends or anyone I talk to who knows about it. it's always a "oh that sucks" or a half-assed "cheer up!" or the fucking "get over it."

Like do you fuckers even understand that this is a DISORDER? Do you even fucking realized it was so bad that I got immediately diagnosed with general anxiety disorder + depression so they could medicate me so I wouldn't fucking kill myself? do any of you fuckers understand that this is going to affect every single aspect of my personality and life, for the rest of my life?

This isn't fucking funny. This isn't a something cute or silly or something to fucking laugh at and ignore. Anxiety isn't fucking being a little nervous, it's fucking agony. It's being convinced that everyone hates you. It's being convinced you're going to be murdered or assaulted again or robbed or shot up. It's being so fucking scared that you convince yourself for a month that people are watching your screen through spyware and are going to hate you and kill you if you click on something bad by accident. It's having anxiety holders and hating them for not being able to take the feeling away. It's being convinced every FUCKING night that this is the night that you're going to fucking not wake up.

I fucking hate each and every person that does not treat anxiety as a disorder. I hate you if you treat it as cutesy or something to not take seriously or something to laugh at. I hate you so fucking much.

I hate my fucking GAD. I hate being convinced people hate me or talk behind my back. I hate being convinced that they hate me for my symptoms. I hate knowing that they DO hate my fucking anxiety symptoms. I hate that no one wants to comfort me. I hate that I need so much comfort over and over. I hate that no one will ever realize how bad it is. I hate that nothing can stick to my brain, that I'm always going to be scared five minutes later that they hate me. I hate that an odd tone or bad punctuation or a distraction can genuinely fucking convince me that people want me dead. I hate that my anxiety makes me want myself dead. I hate how I love people so much when they make me feel good but feel so so hurt and broken ten minutes later because they didn't keep going.

I hate this. I hate my life. I hate my fucking disorder. I hate that these disgusting pills are the only thing keeping it at bay. I hate that they barely keep it from getting worse anymore but I can't get off of them because I go through withdrawal.

I hate myself. I hate myself so much. I hate that I've promised so many people to keep myself alive and safe. I hate my brain. I hate it. I hate myself. I hate being alive. I hate me. I hate my promises. I hate everyone who thinks I'm overreacting. I hate myself for wishing it was an overreaction. I hate myself. I want to fucking die. I hate that I want to die. I hate that I can't die. I hate that I'm actively fucking dying. I hate that I promised to get better. I hate that I can't get better.

I hate you I hate me hate hate hate hate HATE HATE I FUCKING HATE YOU I HATE ALL OF YOU I WANT TO FUCKING DIE WHY CAN'T YOU LET ME DIE I HATE YOU HOLY SHIT LET ME DIE LET ME DIE LET ME DIE I DON'T WANT TO FUCKING DIE DON'T LET ME DIE I HATE THIS I HATE YOU