My life was pretty amazing for a long time, i had a nice comforting family, they were very caring and lovable and I could go to them with any problems my little kid brain could think of. I had everything anyone less fortunate would want, a good home life, a good home, more then enough food and clothes then i needed, friends to play with and a vacation every year. But even from that age I wasn't mentally normal but i didn't realize it wasn't normal too feel so overwhelmed you couldn't breathe, so angry words couldn't explain how you felt, but no one takes what a little kid says seriously so what's the point.
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Fucked up journal thoughts
RandomMy journey with a self harm addiction, bipolar disorder, destructive thoughts, anxiety and depression. (TW to any of those things.)
