i feel as if i’m drifting in and out of life lately. i’m not really here, and when i am i make a mess.
is that my anxiety? or just me? i never know anymore…i say it’s my anxiety but maybe i’m using it as an excuse, because i don’t want to face the truth that i’m a terrible person.
i want to get better. i say that to myself when i’m alone in my bed.
i’m rebuilding someone, who i can’t even remember. did i dream? did i like books THAT much? what did i do with all the time i sleep and hurt myself with now? who did i trust? what is trust? am i supposed to love them? why can’t i love them? what did i write about, and can i even write now?
meanwhile, i’m trying to keep my friends. i keep pushing my problems on them by being irrational. i keep pushing myself away. i keep screwing up.
i just–feel like i’m falling apart. sorry to rant. i didn’t know where else i could say this.