my therapist told me, "stop assuming people are mad at you. Stop attempting to read people's minds. stop trying to manage the thoughts and emotions of others. let people be in charge of themselves. if they have something to say to you they will and if they don't it is their responsibility not yours. overthinking kills happiness" and that hit me like a brick.
Everyone loves preaching about mental health on the timeline, but the brutal truth is nobody actually wants to be around a depressed person. The second your struggle becomes an inconvenience, the distancing begins.
Society loves the aesthetic of support and the hashtags, but they despise the reality. Real depression isn't a cute movie scene; it's zero energy and canceled plans.
The moment you stop being fun, you are suddenly labeled as "negative," a "burden," or "too heavy to handle." They want you healed, but refuse to sit in the dark with you while you hurt.
People will literally watch you drown and then complain that your splashing is ruining their vibe. You learn very quickly who actually loves you, and who just loved the entertaining version of you.
The silence you get from your "friends" when you hit rock bottom is the loudest reality check of adulthood.
che sfigata che sono AHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA in tutto ciò sempre qui il barista una volta non mi ha voluto dare da bere perché pensava fossi minorenne ma raga ma pronto ma tutto a posto
mi danno tutti 17-18 anni e okay che effettivamente sono uguale dal 2015 circa però dai
che poi dove lavoravo l'ho pensato di un paio di 2006 (che io dico adesso, che cazzo hanno mangiato questi da piccoli? BOH) però era giusto "dai che carini" un po' così, questo invece era proprio il mio tipo esteticamente quindi ci avevo già pensato troppo E AIUTO HO I BRIVIDI