A Few Days in The Life...

This is for the Dear Diary... Competition. Please be considerate these are true events.

Some of the events have been exaggerated/altered to protect the individuals. Majority of this is real life. However, some stories have had to be changed to stop people from figuring out who these people are. No one in these stories are at a point where their life is in danger. People are aware of their situations. But as said, for privacy reasons stories have had to be exaggerated. Sorry.

Also, there could be triggers in here, so please be careful.


4. 27th December 2015

What's it like to be me for a day?

No one wants to hear about what you did during the day. No one wants to hear about what you ate or what time you woke up. No one wants to hear about what movies you watched and whether or not you went for a swim. No one reading this wants to know that. Because anyone reading this is reading because they believed it would be like a diary. And I for one, do not retell the events of my day in a diary. I don't recount what I did. I write about how I felt, I write about gossip. I let everything i've kept inside of me all day explode onto paper. Hoping that it'll leave my head so I can finally get some sleep.

What's it like to be me for a day?

It's currently midnight and i'm sat in my room on the floor next to a pile of clothes and a half taken down christmas tree, sobbing while I write a diary entry for a bunch of strangers to read. I've had an incredibly bad night tonight. Not for any reason. I've just felt like crap. Though I suppose that's a side effect of anxiety, right? Well anyway, I started talking to a friend, trying to feel better. But all that did was make me feel worse. Because they didn't understand. Because how could anyone understand why it hurt so much that this guy who i've cared so much about for four years is now in love with some other girl. Yet, when he knew I had feelings for him he avoided me and called me gross. How is anyone supposed to understand why I'd start hating myself after that? 

I spoke to this friend for a while but I was getting worse and worse. So I started talking to another friend. And soon I realised these people didn't care. So I messaged more people. And I realised, no one cared. I realised that even though I am surrounded by people who 'love me' I will never be any of these people's first choice.

One of these people used me and threatened me.

One of these people cheated on numerous girls with me and blamed me (I didn't know he was dating anyone.)

One of these people called me disgusting for liking them.

One of these people started ignoring me because they got in a relationship.

One of these people only pretended to care so they could be close to someone else in my life. 

One of these people only talk to me when they want something.

One of these people prefers their 'chosen daughter' over me (Their actual daughter.)

One of these people is too busy working to see their own child.

One of these people is my father, my mother, my sister, my best friend, my ex partner.

None of these people ever bother to ask if i'm okay.

None of these people ever take the time to send me a message.

All of these people ignore me.

So what's it like to be me for a day?

It's lonely. And not because I sit in my room and watch movies, or because I go for walks with loud music. Not because I don't go out and talk to everyone. Not because I like to nap. Not because I prefer to swim alone. It's lonely because the only people I'm surrounded by are people that don't even actually care.

And I hope you're happy. I hope you got what you came here for. I hope that now you've read an actual diary entry, one full of the truth. One full of how I felt rather than what I did. I hope you enjoyed reading about the dramatics of my every day life, about the sadness and anger and frustration that a person like me has to face. Because that's why you're reading this isn't it? For entertainment.

You know though, sometimes I swear it doesn't matter how many doctors/psychiatrists/counselors/therapists/social workers you speak to. They all tell you the same things. They tell you to breathe, that one day you'll learn to deal with this. And I know it should make me feel better. But it doesn't. It never makes me feel better. Because I know that this is who I am and this is what I have to face, and for the rest of my life I'm going to have to live with this. I know that no matter how much medication I take or how many breathing exercises I try, at the end of the day, when it's dark and i'm crying out for help, that no one will hear me. 

I enjoy being alone, however, i'm not fond of being lonely.

I suppose you'll never really understand what it's like to be me for a day unless you're actually me for a day. But I think this explains it fairly well. I think you'll understand a bit more what it's like to feel like this.

You know, I was having a bad day once and I turned to my mother and I said, "It's okay for me to not feel okay."

And she replied, "No, It's not okay for you to feel like this." I got so mad. Because it is okay for me to feel like this, my feelings are legitimate feelings and i'm no less of a person for feeling them. It's okay for me to feel these. 

I think I finally understood what my mother was saying though. She was never telling me it wasn't okay to be sad because I had to be happy. She was telling me it isn't okay to be sad because I deserve to be happy. 

So, that's all for tonight. I'm sorry about having a go at you. It's the truth though isn't it? Don't get too offended, this is how I talk to myself. And if you wanna read my diary, this is what it's like. Plain and simple.


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