Panic attacks are bad business. I definitely wouldn’t invest them. What’s the opposite of invest? Making friends with the competition? Well, in this case, the competition
definitely doesn’t want to be friends, but I’m still gonna try and fake
it.
Knowing that you’re just having a panic attack is supposed
to help. But for me, it is just a
different type of bad. Jumping from
moment to moment of blind terror and crippling self-doubt, I think “Is this
going to be the rest of life?”
It’s gotten to the point where I can’t even enjoy the good
moments. Each good moment is a
potentially bad moment. Each nice thing
someone does for me is just a build up for some frenzied betrayal. And that makes me feel guilty, which just
fuels my anxiety even more. It’s like I’m
vomiting into my own mouth, swallowing it, then vomiting it up again. Like a disgusting, self-contained baby bird,
that can’t bring herself to jump out of the nest, because what she actually
wants to do is hurtle to the ground.
I should be having an adventure right now, but all I see is
failure and abandonment.
It’s like Thorin and company invite Bilbo onto an adventure,
except Bilbo just vomits out spiders and demands the company love him.
