a cult of sadness

One of my fave vegan places (it's ital food i.e. Rastafarian) is gonna be at the music festival my mom invited me to (because she wanted to see Angine de Poitrine) tomorrow as a food vendor and I am so fuckin excited to spend a truly stupid amount of money on it fuuucckk

I can't live another day, I really can't I really can't I really can't, I need to hurt myself so badly I need to break things and hurt myself so badly that someone finally understands that I'm suffering and need help, but then I won't deserve help, to deserve help I need to suffer silently and accept everything and always be kind as my entire life gets dragged through the mud over and over again and then I will deserve help, but if I don't speak up how is anyone supposed to know, what am I stupid? Do I really expect people to read my mind? But talking about it makes me unworthy, actually. Eternal victim ouroboros