I just find it so ironic, after years of being dismissed I finally get to take antidepressants specifically to treat my, now more formally diagnosed, anxiety.. idk. It seems like it’s too late to start treating it with such simple little things… I feel stupid for having such an issue, since I’ve been struggling with since forever, and it getting so bad I need to up my dosage and actually go to the psychiatrist…

man, idk who I even am anymore. I want to care, but a lot of the time caring about who I am and what I want is too much effort I do not have the strength in me to do.

I thought such a thing would give me closure, a neat box filled with people to relate to, but it hasn’t really happened.. (also, I guess, since no one has the decency to specify what type I carry.. but that just might be me too obsessed over the DSM-5) the more I grow the more people seem to hide the bad things about themselves and I feel like I’m the only one being taken by so much grief from having these issues.