The photo I have attached to this blog is what I'm afraid of reverting back to. Nothing particularly major was happening to make me feel that way, but I felt as if I was falling apart. I was so anxious. I was so frightened. But, honestly, I can't remember why I was feeling that way. Maybe it's a lesson that the things I worry about aren't that important. Or maybe it was just my anxiety acting up. It's a place I don't want to fall back into. To feel that way is awful. I remember mentally begging for help and just wanting to go home. I was only sitting in class. No exams were happening, no one was angry, I was perfectly safe. But I felt in immediate danger, evidently. To so irrationaly break down is something that terrifies me, and this fear is heightened by the fact I've done so many times before. It's not always easy to crawl back into reality. I worry about this often, which is obviously counterproductive. So why do it, you ask? I simply can'
A human who blogs about whatever comes into her brain.