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.