I'm so indifferent to the things I do, yet I hate that I keep repeating pointless habits. I'm indifferent to what my future holds, yet I am horrified of dealing with another day. I don't care about the money I make, yet I keep going to work. I don't like being alive, yet I keep existing.   


I do nothing to better my situation, yet I complain about things always getting worse. I complain about being pathetic yet I do nothing to improve myself. I hate how I look yet I never keep up with myself at all.   


I sleep even though I fear waking up. I really hate this existence, I truly do. Yet I have no desire to improve anything, I have no desire to feel better, I have no desire to seek anymore treatment like I once did. I'm only not dead because of fleeting hope that I was given, which didn't last long. I'm only alive now because my options are limited due to my own choice to be open about things. I swear my self-hatred is the main reason I'm alive because I can not think of a worst fate then existing. It's just... so fucking awful I hate it I just hate it.  


I hate even talking about any of this in anyway at all. Support is painful, reassurance is painful, attention to it at all is painful. Even typing it here is a bad idea, yet here I am doing it anyway. What a bad joke.