Today my Dad dropped off some old boxes of my stuff.

I found journals from 98-99. The thoughts I wrote were like I could have written them yesterday. I was unmedicated until 2004, yet reading these journals is pretty much exactly how I still feel on medication and in therapy after years and years of trying every thing I could get access to. Yeah sure, there are days where its not so desperately unbearable, but after reading that and realising I have gotten no where just made me crash out again. Currently I have no job, I deferred my studies as my brain is mush from the med changes and my goals seem superficial and fake.

My partner is trying to be nice but I cant bare for him to be nice to me, I cant stand him touching me or cuddling me or comforting me in anyway.

Its been a constant battle since those years, constant battle to fake happy and pretend like its ok so people dont worry about me. I wish it was all over, I dont want to do this anymore.

I didnt realise it had been so long and that the way I had written in my journals has not changed. Even back then I was CBT-ing without knowing it.
Feeling guilty for having so much and still being sad, realising that I am not "right".

Sorry to be depressive, I guess that is just who I am. And who I have been for 17 years. Its never going to change, I am never going to change. I just wish it was taken out of my hands so my partner doesn't hate the memory of me.