It’s annoying when I reach out to the one family member that is sort of still in my life and he tells me that I can just “choose to be happy.” Because you know, I totally choose this feeling of depression every day where I have to fight with everything I have to not kill myself. You really think I “choose” to feel this way?
Sorry for the rant, but I felt like it was better to do this than to turn to alcohol.
Anyway, here’s a photo of my dog who is truly the only reason I’m still alive right now.