I’m just another 20 year old college girl with depression and CPTSD (Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) and so a girl like me that can’t afford therapy has to find her own coping mechanisms.

I don’t drink, smoke, have sex or do any impulsive shopping. I’m a pretty boring person actually. So in order to cope with everyday struggles like chronic loneliness and emptiness, I daydream. These aren’t abstract fantasy daydreams; I’m not casting spells or slaying any dragons. Actually, it’s pretty much me daydreaming of a much, much more idealistic lifestyle. The ideal version of me is a beautiful celebrity who’s surrounded by the best friends a girl could have. These ‘friends’ are usually some of my favorite celebs. I daydream of ‘Better Me’ going out and doing things that I don’t get to do. Like, going out for lunch, catching a movie, or spending the day at a theme park.

It gets worse. Better Me is obviously dating my celebrity crush and at night when I’m extremely lonely, I imagine him holding me until the morning. We talk about lots of things. I find comfort in the tiny things like imagining that I write him love poems, cooking for him, listening to music, going to a museum.

When I’m in one of my moods and talk shit about myself/being my biggest critic, saying things like I shouldn’t be alive and that I should probably kill myself, my celebrity crush is there to talk me down with positive affirmations and loving comments.

When I’m doing boring and tedious things that I absolutely cannot bring myself to do, grocery shopping, showering, studying, I imagine that he’s doing it with me. It passes time and makes it slightly enjoyable.

Though, I’m self aware. I don’t have some warped perception of the real celebrity. I know that he’s not the man I created in my mind. I know that. I know that, I’m not delusional.

He’s always there for me and he goes wherever I go. The best way I can describe this is by movie scenes. You know how in movies, the protagonist is ‘talking to someone’ (like a relative that passed on) but they’re not *actually* talking to them and it’s all in their mind? Yeah, that. It happens all the time. I’ve never ever mentioned this to anyone that I know, and I never will.

I guess this makes me weird or pathetic... I mean, I have to feel loved and appreciated in someway, right? I don’t know what else to say so I guess I’ll end it here.