In eleventh grade I researched a lot about diseases, their symptoms, causes and how to cure them. Reason? So that I can conjure them when I needed to get out of plans I never wanted to be a part of.
Like once I told my friends I had food poisoning so that I didn’t have to go to my tution teacher’s birthday, even though I love cake. I even faked the remedies and medicines I am taking (I do my work well, it’s all or nothing) to make it believable.
It’s now I realize that I have anxiety. I can’t meet new people, the only ones I am comfortable around are school friends whom I have known for years.
I love taking part in debates but each time I back out because I just can’t do it. It takes me ten friends to constantly tell that I don’t suck to say a three minute speech in front of school.
I used to think I was a fucking loser because before I couldn’t even talk on phone to order pizza, tell people I made a mistake because I didn’t want to make a fool out of myself.
(Btw I love making fool of myself but only when it’s intentional. If it’s not I stay awake at night for weeks for the appalling visions to haunt me).
In my mind I ponder what my family thinks of me – she is a girl, that’s the reason why half of the time she is so unsure.
But no, that’s not the case and I want to punch something but I afraid it will break and I don’t want it to break.
Anxiety sucks. Not knowing you have anxiety, and feeling bad that you are not enjoying your life as your friends, sucks some more.
And it feels fucking nice to write these things down. I don’t know how to deal with it, but when I do I’ll sure share with you guys.
Bye.