I haven’t written in quite a while. Life has thrown me one curve ball after another, but I do my best to roll with the punches. As I sit here while trying to calm down from yet another panic attack, this time the trigger was my feet getting tangled in the fitted sheet, I wonder why is everything about me wrong. My depression is a slap in the face, my panic attacks are not appropriate, I can’t make decisions fast enough, and I can get my words out in the right way or at the right time. I’m obese, not pretty enough or skinny enough for the guys that aren’t jerks, I’m too broken and too afraid to let anyone in. I want more than anything to be enough, and be normal. Right now it seems as if I wil be destined to live a shell of a life, being a burden on others, and bringing everyone around me down. I keep trying to hold on to the hope that one day it will get better. I know sometimes things get worse before they get better and that it’s always darkest before the dawn. I guess I’m just frustrated with being in the dark for so long that I feel like throwing in the towel, but I won’t because it’s not what I do. I always keep on going, I always carry on, show no emotion and act like things don’t get to me, because that’s what is expected, or at least what I expect of myself. I always try to be an optimist, but sometimes I just want to wallow. Tonight is one of my wallowing nights. So if anyone is reading this, allow yourself a good cry and some time to wallow. To some it may seem selfish or negative, but to those of us who are constantly fighting the battle, we know that it is therapeutic. Carry on my way faring strangers.