I am jealous of -

<p>People who let things slide. People who can be happy. Who don't take things to heart. Who don't obsess over everything. Who don't need coffee to keep them up and alcohol to keep them down. Who don't need workbooks and weighted blankets and to ask for goodnights. Who don't feel most comfortable living in bed. Who don't choke on their sobs all night, waking up looking like they beat the shit out of themselves. Because they beat the shit out of themselves. They continue. And it's exhausting: the no sleeping, the fitful sleeping, the early waking up but not being able to peel yourself up, the&amp;nbsp;artificial high of caffeine, the shitting out all the caffeine, the sluggishness of fried, greasy deliciousness, the eyes closing on the bus, the eyes wide open in bed, the "in an hour, in five minutes" turning into the whole day in bed, the forcing yourself to go outside and pretend to be alive,</p><p>the pretending to be extra alive because that’s how everyone remembers you, the need of someone to hold you when no one cares to hold you, the softness of the blankets hurting too much, the&amp;nbsp;piles of stuff&amp;nbsp;on the left side so you can only sleep on your side. </p><p>

</p><p>Beating yourself up because you know what you should be doing: going to the gym before work,&amp;nbsp;cooking your yourself; when you did that you had real energy and were able to fit into all of your clothes. Going on dates and seeing friends and doing things, when you did that you didn't feel dead. Now if only you could get out of bed.</p><p>

</p>