I shouldn’t complain, because I’m a middle class boy with breathing parents and a house, so I should be fine. But I’m not and I hate it.

I don’t have anyone to talk to when I feel like shit, my body didn’t get the memo that I’m a dude, my best friend keeps telling me they’re going to kill themself but they don’t want my help. I can’t talk to anyone because I’m the person everyone talks to, so all in all I haven’t been happy for a while but I really want to be. I’m trying to be but it’s not working

Friends keep telling me I’m depressed but I don’t know. They say ‘I sound like it’ (whatever that means), but I haven’t seen a therapist since the fourth grade for my anger issues. I’m not diagnosed with anything and honestly, I have days where I want to be and days I don’t.

Wow this has to have three hundred words? I don’t think that much jeez. I don’t like talking about myself this much it makes me feel bad so I’m going to instead, use many words, and commas, to fill the space, oh it’s at two hundred twelve.

I’m so tired. And on edge.

I had to chat with a counselor on Crisis Text Line for a solid hour because my friend tied a noose out of an extension cord and talked about how they couldn’t find a ladder nonchalantly, and then I tried to talk them off the edge but they kept apologizing and I can’t handle this much guilt. Literally, they could’ve died and I wouldn’t have been able to call anyone, because it’s too scary and nerve wracking to talk to someone on a phone. I mean it’s a phone! How hard can it be? But no, my brain decides to completely reject the idea and go into overdrive when anyone mentions ordering food or going places alone, like a normal person could. I guess I’ve just gotten to that point huh?