How I’m really feeling


Dearest Someone,

This morning as I lay in bed, my face cushioned between a pile of pillows, with the duvet pulled up over the pillows and my face, I lay there repeatedly thinking “I can’t do it, I just can’t do it.” There’s like a fiery ball of fear, anger and pain that’s made home in my stomach, creeping around my body, making my neck and my chest tight, with my legs continuously shaking – as if I’m warming up for some sort of big fight.

“I’m pathetic, this is pathetic.” I’m 22 years old, and I don’t know how to do life. I feel small, useless, wasteful, pathetic, stupid, ridiculous, dramatic and pathetic. It’s pathetic that I’m ‘struggling’ – heck I’m so fed up with that word ‘struggling’ – I shouldn’t be struggling I should just be getting on with my life. I shouldn’t be trying to hide away from the…

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