I am sick of lying.

I am tired of telling people that I’m okay.

I hate telling people I’m just tired and being able to really convince them that it’s so.

I hate lying to my parents about where I am during the day while I’m avoiding as much social interaction as possible.

I’m sick of feeling alone.

I don’t want the awkward situations that my friendships have evolved into.

I hate faking happiness.

I feel like an awful person while I lie to my therapist about self harm.

I hate my ankle.

I hate my situation.

At the present moment, I truly hate my life.


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