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It's dark, it's soft with some pokey out bits some of which are sharp and hurt; it's like anyone else's head really.


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Tuesday, February 8

I think it's true

It's easier to love than to be loved.

I can't believe that all this time, I haven't found the trust to let people love me. I want them to, I crave it, in fact, but I can't let it happen. That's why I'm so sure that everyone is pulling away, it's because I never trusted that they were there in the first place.

It's so ingrained that even though I can see that not everyone leaves, (more have stayed than have left in reality) it still feels like they are biding their time. It has so little to with these people. They are delightful, smart, funny people why would they value me? I always feel like I'm scrambling to be the right kind of person, the kind that my friends will love. I have hobbies that I enjoy and I'm told that I do them well, but I can't believe that what I produce is any good.

But I guess this is why I'm clinically depressed, huh?

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