Dear Diary, I don't understand why I have to suffer.
I was doing fine. But everything decided to say. Fuck you.
It's okay. I said fuck you back. But that doesn't mean I'm feeling okay.
I want some peace in my life. But work is stressful. And I have bad days. I believe everyone has them too. And I don't fucking expect anyone to deal with it.
I know the consequences. I know how I feel. And I'm taking it. When I tell you to stfu. Shut the fuck up.
I had a bad day. I'm fucking angry. I'm fucking pissed. I'm fucking upset. I am so upset. That I thought pulling a OT at work for free can solve it.
You think my heart palpitations are a joke?! I am so upset. I can hardly breathe. And I have to blasty fucking music through my non noise cancelling headphones that you can hear it when it's on me. Yet I can still hear you. These fucking music makes heart palpitations worse. You don't just bruh me. Fuck you.
I try to talk to you. But no. Ure too busy for me. You're not busy. You're just busy, for me. And then afterwards, u finally have time for me, u try to care? I'm not having any of those.
I asked you about the plans. You told me to go to the party that I did not want to go to. And you never said shit afterwards. All you cared about was playing with your friends.
Don't fucking strike conversations with me if you can't keep any. I'm not a retarded person that your ADHD can immediately change your focus away and not be upset.
Do not push my head. What the fuck is wrong with you. "You can't hear me". Do I look like I want to hear anything.
Why do I bother. You don't fucking care. You probably won't even read this thoroughly. You're too busy for me after all.
My weekends don't even feel like weekends anymore. I need my fucking alone time. Having another person in this place does not help. I cannot do this.
There's just more and more trash on the floor. I don't mean trash in general. I mean trash on the floor.
We have 3 cups. I don't understand why all 3 of them need to be decorated beside the sink.
I don't understand why the upstairs toilet needs to be used. I'm upset because it's not going to get cleaned. It never does.
You never talk to me anymore. You're preoccupied. And you won't fucking admit it.
Fuck you. You don't fucking care. So stop pretending. If you're not pretending, then it's too late.
It's too late.
It's too late.
Where were you when I needed you.
Why did you give me hope by acting as if you cared and talked to me.
It's too late to pretend.
You didn't even realise I was hyperventilating. You didn't even realise I was crying uncontrollably.
All you cared about was your game. And your friends. And your brothers.
So fine. You do you.
I will suffer as much as I can. Be it deliberately or not.
It's okay. You'll know the day or moment I can't take it anymore.
You'll know when.
It's too late. It's what I've chose. And I've always. Always. Went through with what I chose.
Maybe 2023 is finally the year. I truly hope so. That way I'll finally be happy.
I've never liked open endings. So, knowing this will end with my early death is actually a blessing. Heh, there's actually something good coming out of this.
I guess everyone should be proud of me. Finally making a decision. Oh wait no, I'll just be a disappointment, cuz people don't want such decision. Well, fuck off.