Still anxious
91 stars, and mostly the thought of cutting doesn’t occur to me much anymore, for which I’m grateful, but I still can’t help but think that I’m no better off than I was. I’m just handling things differently now, which is to say I’m not handling them at all. I’m still anxious, a constant feeling of butterflies in the stomach, of not feeling quite right, and I think I finally understand what the saying “crawling in your skin” means. I’d never understood it before but for me it’s just a feeling like there’s electricity between my skin and my body, constantly buzzing, like the electrons in my body just won’t settle down. It’s the sensation of having one too many cups of coffee, only not my body as a whole but just my skin or the space between it.
Most of the chaos, the trauma of moving, is over. I should be settling in but I’m not. I’m not worried, it’s not that sort of anxiety, I just can’t seem to get things done anymore. I can’t think straight. I feel so useless.
And I’m to the point where I don’t enjoy things anymore. Little things might still get a smile out of me, but anymore I don’t look forward to things. I don’t enjoy reading a book. I don’t enjoy playing games online. I don’t enjoy blogging, it’s just something to do.
I feel like I’ve hit a wall. I don’t see a future for myself, even though I know I have potential, because everyone tells me all the time how much potential I have, but I can’t see myself doing anything. I’m barely functioning. I’m barely anything.
I’m going to a dinner tomorrow night and I want to be excited about it but I don’t feel a thing except anxiety, all of my internal organs trying to turn themselves inside out. And I’m nothing and I don’t want to be this anymore.
