Not getting better

Nothing is getting better. I'm probably past the best times at this point. Nothing is even happening but I'm getting worse again. Because of course. They're right. I guess I really am weak and useless.

Falling behind in school, slowly losing what's left of my friends, can't improve in hobbies, can't even take care of basic needs consistently.

I can't stomach the thought of 'things will get better.' Life is not a fairytale. It won't happen like some cathartic turn around in a novel. Having expectations like that will only end in disappointment. It's my fault I'm not grateful. That's why I'm unhappy. I feel guilty over that too. I should be grateful I have a roof over my head, that I can go to school, that I have medication, that I'm alive. But I'm not happy that I'm alive. At all.

Wish someone else could take my place. Someone who deserves it more. I hate waking up everyday. But wishing does nothing, and I'm stuck here; so I have to accept this reality.

It won't last forever. This stress is probably going to kill me early. And I do deserve it so it's fine. At least no one will miss me even if I fantasize about it. No one will be hurt anymore.

I don't even care what kind of insult I get at this point. Whatever you say will absolutely not change the fact that I'm still far from capable, that no one wants to be around me, and how weak I am. Willpower doesn't bend reality.