Excuse me?


I told myself not to read his texts, I trust him right? It’s not him I didn’t trust, I didn’t trust the idea that someone actually wanted to be with me. So I checked. I knew nothing good would come of it. I knew the chances of it actually working out in my favor. But. 5383. Boom. Why did I even feel the need to memorize his password? Straight to the texts. Read things I didn’t want to read, things that hurt me. But are they allowed to hurt me? I don’t know. 


At what point is anxiety really anxiety or is it just life? I find myself worrying about if other people worry about the same things I worry about. Worrying about worrying? Very beneficial. I feel like I know most of the answers to all my questions, at least the ones I constantly ask myself.  My brain can’t make the connection. I can’t…won’t do the right things. I can predict how I will react in a situation, tell myself not to do it, then do it anyway. I can see myself living through the glass and I’m pounding on it so hard, trying to get my own attention. I look at myself. Face myself, and then look away.  

I really am going to start updating regularly. Promise.