On Friday night I felt next to no anxiety. It was nearer to heaven than I had felt in a long time, or have felt since.
I have not yet decided where to live next year, and the indecision drags me down. When we visit potential houses, I feel such fear. I’ve been spoilt here in student accommodation. Maybe it will all work out, but I know I won’t have my own toilet and shower, I won’t have my own view of the London skyline. Now I want to go back and start this year again. I’d go to more lectures, I’d get out of my bed more.
It seems like as soon as I get some things sorted out in my mind, other things begin to ripple around me. There are people that I don’t feel perfect around, who bring me down, but I keep reminding myself that IT’S ALL IN MY HEAD. My self-hatred shouts and my body listens, but nobody else can hear. It’s all in my head, but I can’t silence it: I don’t write enough poems, I am not clever enough, I am not going to get top marks. I distance myself from people I thought I loved because I think they like someone else better. I circle around new people, but as soon as I’m used to them the circles get looser.
On Friday night I didn’t feel like dancing, so I stayed up all night in deep conversation with Rob and Charlie, two guys who actually looked me in the eye. But when I told people, “I stayed up all night talking with Rob and Charlie,” they looked at me with pity. No one seemed to understand how great it really was. ♦