Anxiety. You have anxiety.

This one. This one is a doozy. Sometimes the ones that ask the most amount of rhetorical questions are the worst ones to read back. I wrote these questions for no one- the air to answer back. I never in a million years thought i would be sharing these entries long after i had recovered from these feelings. of course, i'm not perfect. i still have days where i have anxiety. but it's a little chihuahua sized hole- not a molten lava sized hole. the hole felt so deep and i felt so helpless. i didn't know that someone could help me out of the hole. i didn't want anyone to help me out. i wanted to wallow in my pain. i wanted to stay there forver.

please, let me tell you. you don't want to stay down there. it's so amazing up here! it takes work to climb out- i am not going to lie to you. it's hard, sweat inducing work. but you don't have to do that work alone. find a great counselor, call someone who could help you , or talk to a trusted parent. you know who you can talk to. if you don't, a quick google search about "who can you trust to open up to" will give you some quick pointers on who you can trust.

you can do this. it isn't so dark up here, it's actually quite bright.

Entry 11 ~ 5/29/17 ~ 10:50 p.m

Anxiety. You have anxiety. Some days it’s worse than others. Some days it’s better than others. Some days it overwhelms you. Some days it’s barely there. You have this irrational fear that no one likes you. That they just pretend to like you. That they don’t want to hurt your feelings. They do things without you, which heightens your fears. You don’t like it. On one hand, you like days where you can be by yourself. But if you missed socializing on that same day, you blame yourself. You could have done something; but deep down you know that you couldn’t have. You could not have done anything to stop it.

Time. It never ends. It goes by too quickly. Not quick enough. There isn’t enough time. There is always too much time. Anxiety is a funny thing. It has a way of taking hold of you and grabbing you for all that you’re worth. But that’s what you do with your saneness; your sense of calm. You have it in your grasp; yet it always slips away from you. What did you do wrong? Your heart rate spikes. What did you do wrong? Why are you like this? Why do you misinterpret every single word? Why? Why can’t you be normal? Why do you have to be afraid of your own mind? Thats a good question. A legitimate question. Why do you have to be afraid of your own mind? You don’t have the answer to that question. It’s a tricky one. A question that has an answer, but only to those who have dug deep. Not just a lake deep. So deep that you can see molten lava from the inside of the earth. And then going even deeper to get as close as you can to that lava without dying. That’s how you get your answer. You have to seek it out. It has to be you. It has to be you. You can get a little help, if that’s what you need. It’s not a bad thing to ask for help. Who ever said that asking for help was a bad thing? Your mind is tricky. It plays games with you. Ones that betray your own being. Your own being. You ask yourself; Why does it do that? It responds. It's barely audible. It’s barely there. You just have to dig a little deeper.