More often than not, I am a big ball of anxiety. Not in the way that people say they are, where they're only a little worried and trying to be funny, or whatever it is. I wish it was that. No, this is a big, all-consuming thing that darkens every inch inside my head and leaves me reeling for hours. I don't let things go; I can't. If I say something a bit stupid, I'll replay it for the next twelve hours and tear myself apart. I have nightmares about not getting to go to my school because I can't pay for it. From there, I can just envision the dark paths my life might take, and it launches me headfirst into something very akin to terror. I'm genuinely, truly terrified of too many things that don't even bother other people.
I dwell on horrible facts and terrible circles. Things like, "I can't get a job because I don't have a car, and I can't get a car because I don't have a job (or license)." I critique and nit-pick everything I do until I absolutely hate it. Honestly, my own body image is sliding and heading somewhere dark and shadowed and cobwebbed.
Sometimes, you just have to pour out those toxins in your heart, even if it's just a tiny bit, to let at least some measure of peace back in. That's how it works, right?
Probably not. It's difficult to get rid of the poison when you're the one that's toxic.