butter--they-them

[butter--they-them]

October skull studies by ryan lang

[butter--they-them]

I don't know how to feel about self growth. I know its a good thing, but tbh, I was happier before. The more I grow and learn, the more ashamed I am of who I was. I remember getting angry at people who, looking back, were just better people than me because it felt threatening. Now that anger is just directed inward. I know it's a good thing because I'm not putting my shit on other people anymore but wow does it feel shit. Its the same with my insecurities- half of every belief I have used to be just a projection of my insecurities, and now that I have to deal with my insecurities i can challenge those beliefs. I know its a good thing that I'm actually changing, but really? It wasn't logic or empathy or seeing the consequences of my actions- no it was getting more self aware. A completely selfish reason to go with my completely selfish beliefs. Every step forward is both a reminder that the step had to be taken in the first place and how many more are needed. "But that's not who I am anymore" OK and. Its who I was. It had real life consequences on real people with feelings. I made and continue to make peoples lives worse, and the baby steps I've made doesn't really compare to the lived reality of the unlucky people burdened by my presence. I wish I could have a fresh start but that would just be a cop out- a way to not deal with the reality I've created. I made my bed and now I've got to sleep in it. I can't believe I'm relating to this cringe line but, you really are your own worst enemy. I used to be a bad person and, in a couple years, I'll probably look back and think the current me was a bad person. So on and so forth, forever and ever. I'll realise how terrible I am and that will be the true marker of my aging. I'll live and die guilty, full of regrets.

[butter--they-them]

I repeatedly find myself unable to identify with anything.

I'd like to clarify before I continue that, from my limited understanding of the terms, I'm not talking about depersonalisation, derealisation or any such term. Rather, what I'm about to talk about is most likely a result something far less serious.

What I mean when I say this is that, some days, I'll look around me and be struck by the notion that I don't belong. All of a sudden, it's like I hate the surroundings i was previously nuetral to. I begin to hate my clothes, my blank walls, ect. I'll find myself almost paranoid that some vile creature will crawl out of a crack.

I'll look in a mirror and hate things I didnt care about the previous day, like my hair, my body, ect. How I've conducted myself on other days will disgusted me, and I cant do anything but think about how I cant identify with those actions, despite the fact that on any other day I wouldn't regret them.

Often, I'll think to myself, who even am I? Am i a woman? Am I a man? Am I even attracted to people? Do i experience emotions, or have I convinced myself that I have simply because I know myself to be abnormal? Did i trick the people who diagnosed my learning disability- have I been a fake all along? Am I nothing at all?

On those days, I feel freakish. I'll try to search desperately for what's wrong with me. I'll ask myself it constantly, I'll want to scream that question from the rooftops. What the fuck is wrong with me? When will I learn to keep my mouth shut? I'll look for term after term, anything to put a name to my defective mind and body. But in the end, I cant bring myself to identify with any of it. Then, I'll feel.as though I'm nothing at all.

Other times, I'm convinced I'm completely normal. I've made up all this in an attempt to gain attention I lacked as a child, and in doing so have disrespected the communities that actually suffer with those things. Even for things I'm diagnosed of, I'll think: how dare I fake my way into that community. How dare i take their resources.

I'm so completely unable to identify with anything that I have absolutely no idea who i am. I feel like I've lived a series of off days, all disjointed and not one representing myself. No matter how much introspection I do, i find my self no closer to finding out who i am. I dont even know what my interests really are anymore, because I dont even know how to identify the sensation of interest. But I know a day will come where I'll think that's a lie, where I am perfectly normal outside of my own delusions.

I hate living like this. Or, well, that's what I think now. Later i might call this a bad day, and even later than that I'll call this my normal, and even later than that I'll say this was for attention, so on and so forth.

I can talk all day, I can say every possibility, and everything out of my mouth will feel like a lie. Even this, right now, doesnt feel like the truth. I cant identify what makes me comfortable. I dont know what I'm doing or why I'm here, in a sense. I couldnt identify with the truth if it hit me in the face.

Earlier I said that it's probably something far less serious than depersonalisation or derealisation. Now, that's probably true. However, I could also be saying that because I want to downplay the issue, because I find myself unable to take my own concerns seriously. Of course, maybe I'm not downplaying the issue, but rather being hyperbolic. Maybe I'm blowing something small up to this massive issue where I "downplay" everything because I want to see myself as the victim in order to escape responsibility for myself and my actions.

I dont know. Every possibility I just proposed could be true. Or maybe its something else all together.

There are days where I dont get out of bed. I say "dont" rather than "cant" because I, myself, am unsure of if I'm simply being lazy or there is a bigger issue. I genuinly cant tell, so I feel it's best to avoid very definate terms like "cant". I dont forget to eat, as my mother cooks food for me. However I would probably skip meals frequently if I didnt have to keep up appearances for her. Out of laziness? Apathy? I have no idea.

Some days, I think I have no motivation. On others I'd call that laziness. The day after that I'd call it fear of failure. On the day after that I'd call it a delusion. And so on and so forth until the sun explodes.

As you see, I live my life on uncertain terms. As such, I dont have the confidence to get professional advice. Part of me thinks I'd be scolded for wasting times with my bullshit. Part of me thinks I'd come out with a long list of unpronouncable diagnosis. Part of me thinks they'd be concerned, but unable to help due to my inability to describe any given sensation. And so on and so forth.

I cant tell what foods I like or dislike, or the reasons why. Sometimes food makes me retch and I'll have to ask- is it the food? The environment? Some mental association with this food? The taste? The texture? Of course I'll never find a consistent answer.

I'll think, do I like anything? Is this apathy or joy? Do i enjoy art or am i just good at it? Do I hate life or love it? Can i experience positive emotions?

I could go on forever, but I'll cut it here. Theres no conclusion because I have 50, equally true, contradicting ones planned out in my head.

#vent #personal vent #personal rant

[butter--they-them]

Ahahhaha back again with another pitiful post.

This ones gonna be about the fact that I've hugged someone TWICE since age 13. Including family.

So, it would be very easy to assume I'm not a tactile person. Haha bitch you would be wrong about that. I'm very tactile naturally. I really do want that platonic physical intimacy and always have.

HOWEVER, I've had some barriers in achieving this.

For family:

I was never close with them. My parents didn't have time for me and even though I understood why, it meant we had a bad relationship. I rejected physical intimacy with them in response to them neglecting emotional intimacy with me. HOWEVER, I was very close with friends in early childhood.

For friends:

I quickly became familiar with people being uncomfortable with my existence. I was a loud child with no emotional stability, so any comment would be internalised. And of course, no one appritates a loud ""girl"". Being recognised as female by my peers means they expected a level of silence from me. Safe to say they reacted poorly when I didn't meet that expectation. I found myself bombarded by people, including family, telling me I was too much. I was too loud. My friendly punches or rough housing was simply unacceptable, something that wasn't true for the AMAB people around me. Even at 5 or 6, I knew I was too much.

So for much of my life, I found myself constantly analysing my actions, trying to find what made me different from the boys in my class. Trying to find what made me repulsive when I was just like them. I would hesitate to even breath too loudly. I would try not to speak, because I knew I couldnt do so without being obnoxious. Of course, I never found what made me different from the other boys in my class. Because the only difference was that they were AMAB and I'm AFAB.

Of course, this had the consequence of me being too self conscious to seek out the physical intimacy I needed to be comfortable. It was and always will be how I judge my friendships, so to not have that left me unsure of if I was even friends with someone, if i liked them ect ect. It goes without saying that for someone with that baggage, hugging was out of the question.

And now that I've consciously thought everything through, now that I realise what's going on, it's too late. I never see my friends anymore. All of them know me as someone uncomfortable with even shaking hands or sitting next to someone. I'm terrified to reach out, because even though I know now that there's nothing wrong with being physical person as long as I respect others boundaries, i have no idea if anyone else has thought through it enough to reject the bias' that lead to my situation in the first place. I cant blame them at all for not recognising it, or even for coming to a completely different conclusion.

Regardless, the reality remains that I have no guarantee that I wont get the exact same reaction I did as a child. that I wont get the same reaction I've gotten every time I've EVER tried to reach out before. There hasn't been a person who I've being myself with that hasn't been disgusted. I love my friends, they're amazing- how am I meant to accept that I could lose that?

"I want to hug you and be more intimate with you in a platonic way because I am a tactile person. Here are my reasons for being more distant before:"

That doesnt sound like too much, and most people you say it to would be fine with it. But in practice they change their minds. I fucking know I wouldn't get as much of a reaction if I were AMAB, I've seen it, but still. I've got to accept that this is my life. My sexuality doesnt help either, I know it makes people insecure or makes them view our friendship through a sexual lense. They'll deny it, but they'd rather think I'm a liar than think I'm not promiscuous. Of course anything that isnt cishetero normative is promiscuous to most people, it shouldn't have had to be something I learned the hard way but i still did.

Anyway, I'm afraid to seek out the comfort in others I desperately desire, and my govs constant covid fuck ups means that I legally cant do anything about it right now.

I'm undeniably awkward from my years of solitude. People wont be understanding of that. They never have been. Not family. Not best friends. No one. How do I explain that I dont know how to hug people anymore? How do i articulate my situation to them without sending them a fucking essay? This is a mess.

My lack of physical contact has made me a shaky, anxious person. Of course it did, I was rejecting part of myself with every interaction I have with those I care about. That would make anyone a socially awkward reck. But now what?. It feels like they're is no coming back from this. I feel like I'm gonna have to keep living like this.

#vent #personal vent #personal

[butter--they-them]

I remember when my neighbour came over to harass my mother, and when she repeatedly called her a crack head all I could say is "you think we can afford crack? We're on benefits!" She quickly stopped calling her a crack head, instead moving to classist comments despite being on benefits herself. I think my response probably wasnt appropriate, and my mum later told me I should be more quite about our financial status, but I still think it was at least a little funny.

[butter--they-them]

If you think I'm not going to use this account to post useless vents about my day to day life then you are dead wrong.

This was probably immature of me, but shit happens. Basically, my dad and brother were sparring (my bro is into boxing, my dad knows karate). My dad asked if I wanted to watch, I said sure. I got down, said hi, made one or two jokes and got ready to just watch. The ONLY thing my brother did was tell me to be quite, dont detract him, not to even speak at all. He went on and on about it, and when I tried to tell him to fuck off because he is being a rude bitch, he just repeats himself but louder. So I got up and went upstairs, saying "fuck this".

Honestly I'm so sick of him. After spending most of my money on getting him a xmas present, he still treats me like shit. I'd expected him to be at least a little bit grateful, but he still wants me seen and not heard. I'm loud, I've always been loud, and the reason for that, quite honestly, was born out of spiteful rebellion of my brother's insistence that I be silent. Eventually it was just part of who I am. I think that's pretty immature tbh.

He has always acted like everyone is here for the Hayden show. We are all side characters in his movie. It's always been that way. I know he thinks of me as the golden child in our parents eyes, but even my parents have admitted that Hayden took up so much of their time that they just didnt have time for me at all growing up. Its because of their dislike of him that my peers bullied me, by their own admittance. It's because of him that my parents were at best barely present. And still, he takes out the bitterness of not thinking of himself as the "golden child" on me.

I didnt have a fucking childhood. I spent every moment living by his rules, and by his own admission being manipulated by him for his own amusement. I spent every day being bullied and cast out, being told that no one related to Hayden could be trustworthy. I spent every night resenting my parents for forcing ME to be the adult, forcing ME to be mature, where he wasnt. I had to compensate for him constantly. I had to prove myself academically because HIS record cast doubt on my own. I had to deal with teachers disliking me because of HIS behaviour. His shameful shit followed me like a shadow, and I'm not even aloud to say hi and crack jokes? I HAVE TO BE SILENT IN MY OWN FUCKING HOUSE? BE SEEN AND NOT HEARD?

I wouldn't even care, if he was nice to me now! That's the horrible truth. I wouldn't care. If he didnt call me a liar every time I say anything. If he didnt try to gaslight me. If he didnt say "why do you care? It's in the past." After ADMITTING to manipulating me, after ADMITTING that he only stopped becuase I have nothing he could possibly want anymore. If he didnt act like my words were worth less than his. I hate him. If he'd made any effort to improve, I would have forgiven him. But we are beyond that. He destroyed my childhood, he fucked up my teenage years, and now he has the AUDACITY TO DARE SPEAK TO ME AS IF IM LESSER?

HE HAS THE FUCKING NERVE TO LOOK ME IN THE EYES. HE HAS THE FUCKING AUDACITY TO PRETEND MY VOICE IS BELLOW HIM. HE HAS THE CONFIDENCE TO LOUDLY COMPLAIN ABOUT HOW BORED HE IS WHENEVER I BRING UP MY INTERESTS.

AFTER EVERYTHING HE HAS DONE. AFTER EVERYTHING IVE LOST TO MAKE HIS PATHETIC LITTLE LIFE BETTER. THIS IS THE SHIT HE PULLS.

I'm going to make his life worse in any way I can. I know it's incredibly immature. I know it's going to affect my family. I know. And still, I've never wanted anything more than for him to suffer right now. I want him to be in pain. I want him to be lonely.

Because the worst part of it all? He has friends. He has a life worth living. He is mental illness free. He has my parents. He has everything I've never had. I want to take that away from him. He's always gotten everything, while I've gotten nothing. And I wouldn't care, if he didnt enjoy that so much. If he didnt act like the victim.

I want him to die. I want him to just be gone. When he briefly moved out for a couple months, it was the only time in my life I didnt feel unsafe in my room, in my house. So I hope he chokes on his arrogance and dies. Its cruel and immature, but it's how I feel

#vent #family #personal vent #personal #anger

[butter--they-them]

The more time passes, the more I struggle to attach myself to the concept of gender. Maybe I got too into the theory aspect of gender abolishment, maybe I'm discovering myself. I don't know. Regardless, the fact remains. I dont really see myself as my agab. I don't really see myself as anything. I've spent my whole life struggling to meet expectations- hating myself for being one off full marks, not walking right, not talking right, not presenting myself correctly. I've spent every waking moment agonising over where I fit on the gender spectrum, for me it's always just been another set of expectations.

But what even is gender? An identity? Social classes? So far the only thing I can see it as is a division. The social connotations of sex maybe? But then what is sex? Because xy women exist, and they'd be described as the female sex by most. And trans women, for example, after a particular part of physical transition lack the secondary sex characteristics to be classified as "biologically men" by most people. Why is biology even gendered in such a way? If "biological men" can have xx chromosomes, surely you wouldn't gender them. But they are gendered. It's the same with quite a few other features. I feel like this particular aspect of human biology, that of sex, should be viewed as similar to blood type- that is to say sex characteristics are variable features in human biology that exist. After all its undeniable that blood type has material consequences. But that has no impact on the individuals sense of self. No one goes around introducing themselves as a type O singer, like you would a female singer.

Regardless, I find myself looking at sex and gender as how I would look at blood type. I've seen some terfs jump on gender abolishment to do terf shit, but I feel like they are missing the point of gender abolishment ON TOP OF being pieces of shit.

But no, before anyone asks, I dont consider myself trans. I'm not transitioning into anything. I dont really partake in gender, so no dysphoria or euphoria here- just bog standard self image issues. I dont have a problem with people perceiving me as any gender particularly. i dislike the general negative conotations of exisitng in a world with gender, but im sure lots of cis people and trans peoples do. I don't particularly identify with any gender identity.

I find myself more and more simply rejecting gender (and by extension any social connotation to the vuage concept of sex) as a concept. It doesn't feature itself in my identity, only a part of my history of unreachable expectations.

#gender #identity #gender abolition #every post i make is like a shitty little essay. #im always shocked when i get notes #i didn't think anyone would sit through it

[butter--they-them]

I desperately wish I could articulate myself better.

There are so many things I just can't put into words. There are so many feelings I could never hope to describe. Believe me- I've tried. But time and time again, when it finally comes time to put my money where my mouth is, I stumble. Everything I think or feel turns into sand and slips through my fingers. I barely believe myself. It makes it very hard to talk about my problems.

Even here, on posts I don't really write for anyone, I find myself misrepresenting myself. I reread things I've written or posted and it's just... not quite right. I can't open up without seeming like a liar, or being completely misinterpreted. And I can't help but do the same to others.

Sometimes I feel trapped in my own head. So much of me exists in a place only I can reach, theres so much beyond comprehension. I desperately want people to understand me, but it never works out.

I've often thought of myself of well spoken in the past, but more and more I realise I was just ignorant of my own emotions. As time goes on and I really discover how I feel, i feel more trapped. I exist only within myself, if that makes sense. It's the most isolated I've ever felt. Even with people right next to me it's like I'm off somewhere else, completely alone with non of the comfort of true solitude.

It makes me terrified to reach out, because I know I'll hate the results. I'll never be able to put it into words, and I'll waste everyone's time. I feel bad about it, because they try and solve an issue they don't understand- and it's completely my fault they don't understand it.

#venting #personal vent #personal #lonely #vent #mental health

[butter--they-them]

I have so many dreams that never came to pass, I have so many aspirations I failed to accomplish.

For some of them, it was a matter of class. While undeniably I come from a place of privilege, there were so many things that were out of my price range. I had to quit swimming at 8 because we couldn't afford it. I've been ice skating twice in my life despite loving it. I had to stop trampolining when I was 10 after the neighbours broke our shitty trampoline and we had no hope of replacing it. I never worked up the money to afford music lessons- hell, I had so little exposure to music that i didn't even listen to music (ever) until age 11 when I got internet access for the first time. My parents didnt have the time nor money to take me to any kind of team sport consistently other than the failures already mentioned. I keep thinking I need to get a job soon, though I doubt my ability to find one, so I can finally begin these things. But I also worry it's far too late.

For others, this is completely my own failing. My constant anxiety and hyper fixation on my every failure has prevented me from being able to dedicate myself completely to any one craft. I should've worked on my mental state more- I should've been a better person. But I didnt, and i wasnt. I wasted so much time worrying about being a failure that I became one.

It was my own self destructive tendencies that lead to my poor mental health. It is my own paralyzing fear that prevents me, to this day, from seeking mental health help. It is my mental health that has prevented me from flourishing academically and socially. There are a lot of ways that I've done this to myself, and a lot of ways this was done to me.

But the reality remains. I currently have no marketable talents, other then perhaps my slightly above adverage art and academic skills. I have no passion for anything I do. I am mentally Ill. I've refused every coping mechanism offered to me for my learning disability out of fear. I have no job. I have no money. I have no social skills, nothing to offer, and no more dreams I can pursue. How I got here has no functional meaning, what matters now is what I do next.

What can I do next? Find a job I'll hate? Maybe. It would give me the thing I lack the most- money. Right now I can't afford clothes, at 17 I'm still completely reliant and dependent on my parents- a job has the potential to solve that.

But what then? To acquire any kind of disposable income, I'd need to work a lot. I'd have to spend most of my time on it, and generally a mentally Ill person with no social skills doesnt have much energy- I doubt I'd have time to achieve any of my lesser dreams, forgotten in my lack of funding. But I feel like I'm making excuses here. I feel like the loss of freedom, and losing what little passion I have left, is an excuse. I feel like the real problem is my hatred of interaction.

I dont even let people touch me. I hate talking to people- it's been known to give me panic attacks. I despise calls or emails or texts more than I am disgusted my face to face interaction- I dont even know if I'd get far enough to apply.

I'm not where I need to be mentally in order to get a job and not buckle under the pressure, as pathetic as it sounds. Reading this back to myself, I feel spoiled. But I need a job soon. If I keep letting my mental health rule my life, I'll have to face homelessness in the next few years.

So, that means the next step would logically be fixing my mental health. But the thing about mental health is that the hardest thing is often getting help.

The thought of getting help, which i can do for free if I wait a number of months, sickens me. I distrust then beyond belief, and it can often be a long process before real progress is made. I also have no guarantee that I'll even get good help- no one I know has. Either way this means a long wait before I'm actually ready for work, and again I need money soon. I dont think I can wait that long.

So, what should I do? Jump straight into work while hoping not to collapse under the weight of my own crumbling mental health? Maybe start part time and work myself up?

The reality is I need a job. If I dont get one, I'll continue to be a failure. Ill continue to wait for treatment. I'll continue to hate myself. If I get one, i have an opportunity to escape the pit I'm in, but also at risk of falling further down it.

I have everything to gain and everything to lose. But I cant continue to live like this.

I think I'm going to jump into getting a job, and at the same time begin the waiting list for therapy. This could backfire more than anything I've ever done before and ive been on a path of destruction since 13. This could also be the solution to my miserable life. I may find worth within myself by doing this. I may give myself the opportunity to dream, to have aspirations and work towards them. I could finally end the pattern of trying and having opportunity ripped from me.

This is terrifying. This is pathetic. But I came here to vent, not sugar coat myself as anything more than a pathetic shut in. So I guess it's ok that this is so frightening for me.

#mentally tired #mental health #life #life goals #vent #personal vent

[butter--they-them]

I'm beginning to think that marginal tax is a good thing, if only because we could tax anything above a particular amount by 100%. I mean, we're probably never going to. But that possibility alone seems like some kind of goal.

[butter--they-them]

I often feel guilty about living in the position of privilege that I do.

Already, I can tell people reading this will roll their eyes. And quite honestly, I agree. It's quite a pathetic sentiment. What I should be doing is making the most of my privilege, and using it to help others.

But I'm not doing that right now. I'm 17, with absolutely nothing in mind for my future. I've often been drawn to politics, if only to have some meaningful impact on this miserable world. And yet, I have no belief that I could pull it off. I'm poor, though only for the standards of my wealthy country. I have a learning disability. I'm not particularly smart, or outgoing, or anything really. I'm a big bag of slightly above adverage, and depressed. Theres nothing about me that indicates a successful person. In fact most things about me indicate a pathetic person.

And why am I pathetic? Well, i have a roof over my head. I haven't gone hungry in years. My parents constantly make allowances for my mental health. I dont have to get a job till I'm finished with my education, though I probably will anyway. I only rarely have to worry about having heating, or hot water ect. I have fairly reliable internet access. I'm in a massive position of privilege by those things alone. I'm in the perfect position to better myself, to become more than the slightly above adverage, pathetic slob I am. I'm in the perfect position to dedicate my life to making a difference.

And yet, I cant bring myself to do it. I continue to laze about in my habits. I struggle to get out of bed in the morning. Even without doing anything at all, I feel myself buckling under the pressure of life. Truly, I want to end it all most days. And that is what I find most pathetic about myself.

Even with every privilege I've been granted, I've accomplished nothing. Even with every break I've been given, I never manage to take the opportunity to become something more. I let life pass me by, and even eagerly await its end. I need to do better, to be better. But, I've always been keenly aware of that. I don't really remember ever being unaware of my own inadequacy, even as a very young child.

I feel like I've been born wrong. There must be something wrong with me. Perhaps one of the few breaks I havent been given is access to mental health support, though it's probably something that would do quite a bit of help if I could get it. I dont think I've even left the house in months, not even for a walk.

So I guess in summary, I dont feel guilty about being in a position of privilege. No, I feel guilty about doing absolutely nothing with it.

#privilege #vent #mental health #guilt #this is a trainwreck #random rant

[butter--they-them]

Theres something about venting that makes me sick to my stomach.

Not in the sense that I cant stand other peoples vents, but in the sense that I never feel worse than after I vent my own emotions. The second how I feel is in the air, I desperately wanna take it back. I'll spend weeks after the fact agonising over it. Any time I'm not perfectly pleasant to be around, or any time I let others know exactly why I've been so distant lately, it's as though my heart caves in. It's like I cant breath. I'll get these moments of horrific regret, where I'll just be there, unable to think of anything but this rediculous moment where I clued someone in on my own suffering, and suddenly it's like I'm having pins and needles in my chest.

I know I dont hold these standards for others. At all. Maybe I'm afraid of judgement, or maybe it's something else entirely.

After I've spilled the beans so to say, immediately I begin convincing myself about how I'm an attention seeking liar, about how everything I've just said is deeply untrue or is bound to be misinterpreted. I've convinced myself again and again that something I've known without a doubt to be true is false, and is a false reality I constructed to seak attention.

By the time anyone offers me advice, I've convinced myself the problem was a delusion. I feel guilty for asking for their advice when I now feel as though I dont need it. I ignore any help offered to me, and never get the courage to even try.

Maybe this is part of some subconscious plan to self destruct. If I dont accept help my problems will get worse, so I've come to be in a position where I feel as though I can never ask for help and that nothing is wrong, and even if there is something wrong there is nothing to do about it. That definately seems like a self destructive tendency.

But I dont know what to do about it. I can no longer tell my actual problems from some doomsday fantasy. I'm in a constant identity crisis and never work up the bravery to seek help. I suppose it doesnt help that if I seek out a therapist or something like that, in the area that I'm in, they'd without a doubt do more harm than good.

Maybe that's why suicide appeals so much to me. It feels like the logical conclusion of my self destructive attitude. Honestly I feel like a mess.

#personal vent #mentally tired #tw suicude #mental health