Is it depression that urges me to self-sabotage, push everyone away, and convince myself that no one, not even a higher power, cares?

Or is this who I am?

Though I’d never let you know, sometimes I feel like I’m 13, testing to see if you’re going to stick around. Really stick around. Really care. Most people fail the test.

And when someone fails that I hoped wouldn’t, I am devastated.

Maybe it means most people aren’t authentic. Maybe it means my standards for relationships are too high. Maybe I am too needy. Maybe no one actually cares.

Disconnect is anorexia’s favorite game.

I can’t stand feeling stranded in the middle of the ocean with no land or soul in sight. Even though in reality, land is only a step away and souls surround me. This feeling makes me want to die. Truly. It’s like screaming as loud as you can but no one can hear you or see you. I am invisible. My voice is lost in a sea of words that no one is reading. Really reading.

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