Anxiety

It sucks. It isn't just a little flutter in my stomach. It's a deep, painful gash in my fucking life.

I don't just use it as an excuse, my anxiety is crippling to the point where I in fact miss a lot of oppertunities in my life because I'm so sick from it.

Puking isnt fun. Feeling like you're gonna 24/7 gets old very fast. Having to change everything about your life so you don't end up in the hospital is very hard.

Having to take very expensive pills every fucking day, and then go see someone every 3 weeks to get more, pay more, and maybe have to take more really puts a hamper on life.

Dreading every meal, every snack, every single social aspect, from going to a party with friends to simply going to fill up my tank, I have to live in fear of puking my guts out, not being able to hold in that lovely meal, and not be crippled enough to see friends I rarely get to see.

Meeting new people is very hard because I can't really chat with them if I'm puking/shitting my fuckin guts.

So yeah, next time you all wanna say, hey, you'll be fine, you take a step back, and fuck yourself.

I won't be ok. I'm not ok, nor have I been for years. This isn't something I can just get over. I've been living with it. It's a fucking curse, a burden. It's something I will always have to deal with if I expect to live past 30.

Fuck yourself if you think life is peachy or that I can use it as an excuse. It's not an excuse, it's not a ticket to a fucking free day off. It's a reason to sit with my head in a bucket for 2 hours and hope I don't lose more weight so I don't have tubes in my fucking arms to feed me. It's a daily struggle so I don't need serious medical attention, whether it be physical or psycholigical.

Eat shit.