I feel like I’m just clinging on. Clinging on to sanity, the ability to function, the skill of pretence and on to friendships. I am almost always on edge, just one event away from a crying attack, a panic attack, a breakdown. I can physically feel the tears inside me, clogging up my chest and throat. I dread something – even an insignificant thing – going wrong because that’s when they’ll flood up and destroy the image of normality.

And friends, contacts… I know that if I stopped contacting people, my friendships would fade immediately. I don’t know why I don’t have the strength to do this, to move on and to let my friends continue happier without me. Maybe it would be better if I did. At least I wouldn’t be waiting for someone to get in touch, wondering why they haven’t replied or why they don’t seem to care. I tell myself I’ll do this time and again. I have even attempted it a few times. I have yet to last much longer than a week before giving in to temptation and sending off a text, a message…

Weak-minded. Desperate. Paranoid… Annoying.


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