My last (hopefully) uni meltdown

It’s so difficult for me right now. Part of me screams I should continue my study. Why? Because I started it. And possibly also because John really liked the idea of me studying for a masters. But I can’t do it, you know? Every time I try to think about writing my assignment my mind reminds me that course creators are two-faced and I don’t want to take part in it. This is at all not what I thought I was signing up for and I’m thinking how come I put myself through those troubles AGAIN?

Always something. Why I cannot just be happy and content with what I have. My life isn’t bad, I try to remember it, but somehow my brain screams I messed up again and I need to be punished for that. Maybe John will break up with me because he doesn’t want such a stupidly stubborn girlfriend and if that won’t happen somehow I need to punish myself for that stupidity; thinking I can change other people’s lives for the better. That’s what I wanted when I signed up for the course: I found a happy care home and wanted to deliver a message about it to the entire world. I even wanted to pay for it.

No one cares. And I’m just a stupid, naive autistic blogger.

I wanted to go to the gym today but I feel like I don’t deserve even that.

Suicidal thoughts took the better of me. I can’t wait till I’m old enough to live in a care home myself. For the time being I think my access to Internet needs to be limited. I don’t have mental capacity to make decisions other than what to eat for lunch.

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