Many days are a struggle, some are worst than others like today. I do not see the point on living a lot days, I think this is happening more often than not right now. I don’t see the point to my life. It’s exhausting to struggle alone. It’s exhausting to not be able to communicate the anxiety and pain. What is the point of the struggle? Some would say god, but we all know I find that a load of crap. Others would say children but I will never bring another child into this shitty world. It’s hard enough being a birthmother. It’s not a bad thing to be a birthmother, but there is definitely a heartache every time you think about how your daughter will never call you mom. I wonder if thats how my birthmother felt. Who knows, she had other kids to call her mom though. I live paycheck to paycheck and struggle hard to make ends meet, especially now. More money hasn’t gotten me ahead, it’s just helped me afford security and stability but the stress is still there, maybe more so these days because there is more fear of failing. What is the point of this stress? Realistically I could die and time will continue to move on. Why am I wanting to be healthy? To live longer in this fucked up world? I will feel better again soon, I always do, but all it takes is a reality check and a moment of weakness against my thoughts to realize how insignificant I really am. I hate this world. I really don’t think I was meant to be born in this time. I used to use binging and purging as a way to cope with these emotions, since I am over that, now I am just empty. So so empty. My eyes are swollen again, I am about out of ice. I will never be good enough for anyone or anything. I’m sorry I couldn’t be more optimistic for my readers, I can’t always be a role model. It’s just one of those days, I am sure many of you are all too familiar. It will pass, right? I will just go take a shower and put on the happy costume.