I was going to get up today. I was going to go into town and do things just to know for myself that I did them; for the sake of doing them. I showered and got dressed and did my hair and makeup as best I can. I was ready to go.

But in the end, I just couldn't. I couldn't do anything but go back to my room and lay around in bed for hours, because that's all I'm good at. Because the thought of driving terrifies me; because the thought of people seeing me right now is unbearable and I don't know why. The thought of talking to anyone face-to-face makes me feel sick. I know self-isolation is counterproductive to happiness and all that. Intellectually, I know it. Emotionally, I don't care, because I don't have the strength to be anyone's anything right now. I'm so scared people won't understand. They'll think I'm ignoring them, that it's something they did or that I don't like them anymore. And then I'll really be alone. I don't know how to hold onto people. They're always fucking leaving. I don't understand how people act like you're their whole life and then suddenly not. I can't just do that. How the fuck do you just amputate someone from your life? I feel like it's going to happen with the few people already in my life. I'm grieving for relationships that haven't even ended yet and I feel fucking stupid.

I can't stand it when people see me upset. And then I get irrationally upset because no one seems to care. Maybe it's because they don't know. I hope that's why, anyway.

My anxiety is getting worse. And so is my obsession with perfection. I got a C on my term paper the other day. I immediately felt like the biggest failure that I could ever be, and I freaked and started wondering how I could let myself fuck up so badly. Anything less than an A is unacceptable. My grandma had died and my family was caught up in the mess that any death in the family causes when I threw that paper together, and yeah, maybe I wasn't on my game. But I still felt disgusted with myself. I started frantically searching my bag for my phone like I do when I'm starting to panic and I need something to ground me. But I couldn't find it immediately, so I really started to panic. I could feel my heart racing. I was starting to shake and hyperventilate, so I put a Xanax under my tongue right there because I was losing my fucking mind; I could feel it. I kept willing it to dissolve faster and praying to a god I'm not sure I ever believed in to just stop that feeling.

I started to calm down a little after that. My phone was right there, too, if I'd only just looked a second longer. But I swore I could feel everyone looking at me; judging me and glaring at me. It felt like somehow they knew I'd gotten a C and that everyone must've noticed so they must think I'm a pill-popper. I couldn't stop thinking things like, they know you're fucked up and they hate you for it. You're stupid and you don't belong here. You just fucked yourself. Fantastic. You fucked yourself and your fucking A; you're going to fucking fail like you were always destined to and it will be glaring evidence of your worthlessness on your transcript. No college will accept you. Forget financial aid. You're stuck here for the rest of your life working at a job you hate, playing nicey-nice with people you hate even more, and death is the only way out.

I tried really hard to stay for the lecture. Really, I did. But every time someone opened their mouth, I got the urge to seriously hurt them or myself. Mostly myself. So. Fucking. Grating. I could go on about why, but it doesn't matter. What does matter is that I'm a judgmental prick. I really am an asshole sometimes. In that moment, I hated them all. And I knew I needed to leave.

I got home, and no one was there. I wanted someone to be there. I needed someone. I needed someone to tell me I was overreacting and that one C will not damn me, especially given the circumstances. That I would be okay and it's normal to feel like a failure sometimes. But it's good I was alone, really. Because my parents can't handle me anymore. That's why they're paying a psychiatrist to do it for them. I won't say it doesn't hurt, but I can't expect more from them than they can give.

I feel so ashamed of my panic attacks. I don't know why it happens so suddenly and unpredictably. I can't even get my hair cut without taking something to stay calm. It's really embarrassing and I'm afraid to tell people. That's usually the biggest reason I don't want to go out and do anything. I just lie and say I'm feeling sick or I have to get up early for work, when in all actuality I'm fucking terrified of seeing a movie with you, sorry, I just know I'll work myself up into a frenzy.

I get really self-conscious when I panic. I sometimes worry people are noticing. It feels so fucking big and obvious to me when it happens that I figure everyone knows. Everything's wrong and I truly want to die if it'll just end the feeling. Sometimes it stops as abruptly as it starts, and the person I'm supposed to be talking to carries on as usual, funny enough. No one ever notices. Either people are really unperceptive, or I'm just really good at hiding it. I hope it's the latter. Because I need to know that at least some people notice and care when things are wrong.

I'm trying so hard to enjoy things again. I watch old TV shows hoping it'll trigger some subconscious response in my brain related to the nostalgia and I'll feel happy watching it now like I did years ago. Sometimes it helps. Sometimes I get lost in watching ridiculous things like Little Bear or Full House and I forget the present me for a few minutes. But it's getting harder. I'm so fucking pathetic; I can't watch serious movies or even listen to sad songs without getting incredibly depressed. Maybe I'm just sad. I don't know. I don't know what this feeling is. All I know is that it's oppressive and suffocating and it's keeping me from leaving the house; from leaving my goddamn bed, even.

It's just really scary out there. I went to the grocery store the other day because I was out of cereal, which I felt bad for eating anyway. Someone even being in the same aisle as me got me worked up. I couldn't look at the cashier when I was paying. I could barely get the money out of my wallet because my hands were shaking. The florescent lights felt so bright I couldn't look anywhere but my feet while I rushed out of there. All the sights and sounds in the parking lot were just too fucking much. Everything felt hyper-real and like an illusion at the same time, which I know makes no fucking sense. And I have work tomorrow. With people and florescent lights everywhere. I don't know how I ever did this.

Okay, so. There's a dark comedy called Wilfred that I watch. There's an episode toward the end of the second season *spoiler* (hahaha, no one's reading) where the main character trips on a really powerful psychoactive drug. He has this indescribable experience, and he wakes up from it understanding at least a little why he's so fucked up. So he starts crying, which is big, because he hasn't let himself in years. His friend just unceremoniously sits on the couch next to him - really, just this pathetic mess, with vomit drying all over the front of his sweater - and his friend just presses himself to the other's side and holds him for awhile while he just cries. Neither of them say anything for a long time. No advice-giving, controlling, manipulating, dismissing, rationalizing - just being. Simply being present and accepting everything for what it is. I almost lost it then, because there are no words for how badly I want that. I want someone who loves me, at least in that moment, to just hold me and let me be whatever I am right then, even if who I am is fucked up, and to just not expect anything. Someone who doesn't have any agendas other than to just be there in that moment with me, so I'm not alone when I'm this wrecked. I think that is a lot to give. So I don't really feel entitled to it. But I can hope for it.

God, that sounds so needy and stupid. But it's the truth.

I really can't stand myself anymore. I feel like I'm watching myself fuck up everything in my life and doing absolutely nothing to fix it. I have homework, but I can't bring myself to do it. I have texts and messages to reply to so my friends don't think I'm a lost cause or a self-righteous bitch, but I can't. I have my doctor's fucking mental health questionnaire to fill out and I can't even do that. I keep wondering why I'm even here.