I have depression and I’m gonna write about it 

I look and act like pretty much anyone.

I function normally and i can socialise with people and I’m not shy. 

but I have depression.

I suffer with it. and i truly mean I suffer.

its always there no matter what good comes into my life . sure, it can get better but it makes itself known when the lights and sun go down and and when the lights and sun come up and everywhere in between.

depression doesn’t just go away when someone comes into your life . and it doesn’t suddenly come back when you have a break up or when your dog dies. it’s an illness. an actual mental illness. and you just suffer. like I suffer.

and it sucks because it’s really hard for me to talk to people about it and to explain what it’s really like for me and how it feels to be inside my head. normally I just joke about it and they also begin to joke about it and it never becomes serious.

I need to work on that.

what I really wanna tell them is that I hurt. I hurt when I am alone and i hurt when I’m in bed and i hurt when I am having a good time because I know it won’t last when my back hits the mattress. I don’t write anymore and i fucking miss it but I can’t bring myself to bring stories to life. I realized I’m a social eater. but it’s just because I don’t want them to notice that I’ve been getting skinnier and skinnier and more tired and more fragile. my wounds take forever to heal and I’m always tired. I am always fuckin tired. my room is never clean and i hate it but I can’t bring myself to do anything about it. and my hair is falling out. from stress or from not eating i don’t know maybe both but I hate it. I laugh and i joke and i go out but it’s just to try to fill what I know is wrong with me in my brain. 

this is all I have at the moment. 

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natalia is never allowed to get drunk ever again 

I believe the best way to deal with bad things happening to me is to not take them seriously. 

like my parents divorce or my eating disorder or in this case, when my sober close friend made the decision to make out with me while I was wasted.

I barely remembered it when I woke up.

The more I talked about it the more I started to remember. 

I remember us talking about how I was still drunk.

I remember telling him it was his decision whether or not something happened.

I remember him stroking my body before it happened.

I remember him grabbing me and pulling me closer as it happened.

I don’t remember every single detail but I remember enough to be full of regret, discomfort, and disgust. 

As the days go on its all I can think about. I wanna remember the whole thing but it probably won’t happen if it’s already been a day and a half.

I talk about it seriously on here, but of the 2 people i told i have convinced them that I am not nearly as hurt and affected by it even though it’s been clouding my mind.

he was supposed to be my friend.

just my friend.

but friends don’t take advantage of you.

eating pt. 2: the worry.

i haven’t had a meal in a while. I am trying very hard not to worry but it is getting worse. I am skinnier now than I ever have been. i am weak, and tired and my wounds take a while to heal. I am never hungry so I never eat, only when I get dizzy or when I am out with friends. I eat with them so they can stop worrying so much but I think I should stop because it’s getting bad. I can feel my hip bones now which is an entirely new thing for me given my state a couple months ago. it has to be the stress but I don’t know how to fix it. but thinking of food now just sort of makes me sick and that worries me because I can’t have then worry about me like last time.

beauty in the ugly truth 

tw: rape 

my friend came clean about a time she was taken advantage of. I knew the guy. he goes to these house shows i go to every two weeks.

I’ve taken his picture before where he posed with my brother and a close friend. she was scared and nervous about opening up because her boyfriend plays at the house shows and doesn’t want anything to jeopardize that and that’s how I know she is strong. I came forward with the owner of the house about this guy. I told him about how he used to touch my friend and how she was only 14 and he was 17 and it made me queasy just telling him the story of a girl I didn’t even know at the time. she can feel safe again and have fun again and walk around knowing that everyone knows. she is so strong and i admire that. the owner thanked me and told me how much he appreciated me and that’s when I realized that the world can sometimes be a beautiful place with beautiful, strong people and it sometimes makes it all have meaning again. I felt like I did good today.