Scared
You're scared. You're so fucking scared.
You don't want to be scared because you know that if you're scared it's ten times more likely to happen. Just because you're expecting it. It happened before and that time you weren't expecting it. That's why you're expecting it this time because last time you were happy like you are now.
Last time you plummeted quickly so you know that one of the smallest things could make it happen again.
You don't want it to happen again because you know that not only do you hurt yourself, you hurt your friends: the people around you. That is, if there still is people around you because they all leave you when it comes back. They don't to be around someone who is such a downer.
You find yourself getting paranoid. Scared that the smallest things, which actually don't mean anything, mean that it's back. When you find yourself enjoying being hungry, you immediately get in contact with the only person who understands you; she doesn't even live in the same country as you. You know it doesn't mean anything, but you're so scared that you believe it means something.
Then, the inevitable happens. Something which doesn't normally get to you, people who don't matter talking about you, actually gets to you. This is when you know that it's begun. You know that this is the end of your life... well, for two months of it.
You feel the same as you did at the beginning of the last two times it's happened.
You feel yourself fall into the depression again.
You are no longer scared; you're fucking terrified.
AN: so I thought I'd write about how I'm feeling, as usual. But writing is the best way of letting things out. Dedicated to Nic because she's helping me through it. Laura is helping too. R&R
