When you're ripe, you'll bleed out of control

I haven’t felt the urge or the drive to keep doing photography and art in general. Im not sure if this is pure laziness or if my depression is evolving into something else. Im too scared to make anything. i’m too scared to post anything.

i don’t think anything i make will be good. My work lately hasn’t gained much traction as my old work and i see all of my friends post good work and i just ask myself if i could ever produce anything even slightly good as them. i’m too scared to post that i’m available to shoot bc i know no one will message me to shoot. (thats partially because of many different reasons.)

I just think im giving up. but i don’t want to. i want to keep going but its like, whats something original i can come up with? just the idea of doing a shoot scares me because i don’t want to create something ill hate, or that the model wont post. At this point in my life i truly don’t know what i want. and its bothering the hell out of me. Its frustrating and i want to just live blissfully and create art.

i don't care where, just far.

i have the strong urge to leave everything. Im not happy with my life and i wish i could travel my days away. i don’t know what it is but the idea of a lot of things don’t make me happy. being successful and having a career doesnt interest me and being in a romantic relationship doesnt interest me. i just want to get out of my room and breath fresh air. gaze into the night sky alone.

I want to escape but id not know from what.

from my family? the sick routine of life? from myself?

i genuinely think its the latter. i’m not happy with myself. i tried changing myself. being more charismatic, or tried something new with my appearance. i’ve never felt happy in my own skin. i don’t even feel like myself sometimes. i think since depression took away my formative years, i’ve been left a soulless empty shell. i didn’t expect to live past 20. i genuinely didn’t. i’m turing 21 next year and i’m just a sad lonely girl who has nothing to live for. it feels as if everyone is advancing years ahead of me each day and i’m still taking my baby steps to leave the house.

it feels like with each depressive episode, i’m getting closer and closer to just ending it all. i toss around the amount to take.

i’ve spent an ungodly amount of time in my room. i want to leave. everything. i want to have fun and never worry about damn thing anymore. i want to live in bliss. just oblivious to the outside world. i hate being home.