Just another day to pass

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Today happens to be my birthday.

Oh, woeful me, to this day you have been born.

When suffering with depression, you usually begin to tell yourself that you wish you were never born. That’s the first snowball thrown down the hill that keeps rolling, and rolling until you come to suicidal tendencies and hate your life. 

When you get to your birthday, it’s just a horrible disaster. 

The one thing I want to do today, is sit down with a nice, fat blunt and get as low as possible.

With 3 charges and court in two months, would that really be a good idea? No, and to any of you reading this right now, I hope that you don’t do the stupid shit I have begun; it only hurts you more. 

The problem is that bud seems to be the only thing that slows my mind down and lets me think (kind of ironic) before I do anything stupid, like self-harm. 

What a great way to talk about a birthday huh?

Well, I’m trying to get myself to realize that without being born I wouldn’t have met so many amazing people, inspired people to do better for themselves, given advice and stopped people from hurting themselves, saved a life, gotten so many wonderful chances and gained dreams. I say that i can’t see myself having a future. Is that really true? It’s like telling myself that there was never anything that you planned on doing later in life, something that you always dreamed of doing because you know there are those things. 

Stop cutting yourself short Bridgette for that was always your biggest mistake. 

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