I Promise, I'm Not a Stalker.

Chapter 32

Trigger Warning for this chapter- please don't read if you are triggered easily<3 Just message me and I'll tell you all the important parts so you can continue reading c:

Important author's note:

This chapter took a lot out of me to write, so I hope you like it? I've had this done for a while but I didn't know if I should post it because when I think of this story I like to think it makes people really happy and it makes them laugh sometimes and that makes it all worth it.

At the beginning of the story I mentioned how she was depressed and I was going to do way more with it but I was afraid I was going to mess it up or romanticize mental illness which I'm not trying to do here at all. The worst thing about writing about illnesses/disabilities is that i’m always afraid i’m going to offend someone or romanticize something that really shouldn’t be romanticized. I want to keep it real and make it slightly fluffy but I feel like someone’s going to call me out on mentioning certain things. So in no way with this chapter am I saying that someone saying "I love you" is going to make all your problems go away and someone saying "You're beautiful" is going to stop you from hating yourself, those are things you need to work on yourself, you don't need some boy or girl to do it for you.

Depression doesn't just go away, you're going to have good days and bad days and that's okay. If you ever need to talk to me about anything please message me because I will listen and stuff so don't hesitate<3

Anyway, enjoy the chapter.

I woke up and immediately wish I hadn’t. I hugged the duvet tighter around my body. The sounds of Dan and Phil in the kitchen, banging pots around and the occasional hoot of laughter, for some reason, didn’t make me feel better. My eyelids slammed shut in hopes that maybe I would fall back asleep and not wake up until tomorrow, or maybe even never. As much as I wish that was the case right now, it wasn’t, and now I have to put up with my own self loathing, for however long my brain and my thoughts want me to suffer.

The thing I hate most about my “Sad Days” is that I don’t know what trigger them, I don’t even know what I’m sad about. It just happens and I can’t control them.

I thought they had stopped.

Must’ve been an idiot to think I was that lucky.

I should be thankful that I got as big of a gap as I did, 5 months without one, but when I do get one, my brain decides to bring it on in the worst time period possible, 2 days until VidCon and I still have to pack, and do a whole bunch of shit, but I can’t, because my whole body feels like it weighs a thousand pounds, and my head a million. Maybe the reason it weighs so much is because it’s filled with each individual thing that’s wrong with me.

You’re selfish

You’re not original

Everyone just pities you

You’re ugly

You’re lazy

And so many more insults that I conjured up myself polluted my head. I wish I could shut my own thoughts up, but unfortunately that’s not how it works.

During these days I can’t do anything except sit in my bed and think, trying to sort myself out and convince myself that everything my head is saying isn’t true, but no matter how long I sit there trying to convince myself, even on my best days, the little voice is sitting there nagging at me repeating insult after insult.