I'm giving up on my dreams
I just can't get my hopes up anymore.
I really just want to be happy. But that doesn't just happen after years of depression and anxiety. I would love it, really love it, if I could just not be anxious or depressed anymore. But I could move a thousand times and life could go perfectly and I'd still be stressed out.
It takes work and it takes time and there are going to be days where I'm just exhausted and miserable and don't want to deal with anything.
I dunno. I feel I've had a lot of pressure growing up that if things weren't perfect then it was akin to the end of the world. I feel like I was raised with that mentality. But alas, my life has been far from ideal or perfect. I wasn't ready for mental illness or pressure from being LGBT+ in a family that is heteronormative or just how far behind I got in the business of living.
So, I give up. I'll never have that perfect, ideal life I was trained to expect. And I'd love to say it's better that way, but it honestly is hard. And exhausting. And I don't always know if I'll make it.
Isn't that just disheartening?