ive been biting my nails a lot lately. I only bite them when im nervous. Nervous over what, i dont know, it always ends up being a subconscious issue whenever i get nervous, extremely annoying. I think its unusual when i put it into perspective how long i went without ever acknowledging the fact that i have anxiety. when they diagnosed me with it, it made sense, yet it felt like it didnt because it shoudlve been something i could have realized on my own. Yet, i never put the two pieces together. I used to be so nervous about missing the smallest timings that could be easily fixed that id worry about them *after* already having accomplished whatever it was that was under a time constraint. I have one specific memory, of waking up at 7:14 ish, and for some reason being more worried than usual about missing my bus. Im assuming it was likely that either my clothes were wrinked, so i threw them into the dryer on wrinkle release for 20 minutes, or i hadnt showered the night before, so i had to that morning. Possibly both, i domt remember when this was. I normally leave the house at 7:50 to catch the bus at 8:07. The bus is at the entrance to my neighborhood, and i live on the absolute last street. Like 10, 15 blocks. Im a fast walker, so i usually walk it in under 10-13 minutes. The latest i can leave and make the bus is 7:53. At least, ive never tested it, and i dont ever intend to. I remember just thinking the entire last 20 minutes before i had to even leave my house, im gonna be late, im gonna be late, im gonna be late, im gonna miss the bus, im gonna miss the bus, im gonna miss the bus. I didnt; i made it exactly on time like i do every morning. Yet, the entire walk from my house to the stop was me just thinking constantly, scared, im going to miss it, fuck, fuck, im gonna miss it goddamnit go faster jesus christ im gonna miss it and i walked so fast my calves hurt once i reached the bus stop, 5 minutes early, like i do every fucking morning. Even ON the friggin bus, i was STILL freaking out inside my head constantly thinking i was gonna miss the goddamn bus. Literally, ass in a seat, INSIDE THE BUS, DOWN THE STREET FROM SCHOOL AT THIS POINT, thinking, holy shit im gonna miss the fucking bus like WHAT

I literally could NOT get it out my head bro, no matter what i told myself in my head, i kept thinking for no reason that i was going to miss the bus i had already stepped off of and was walking to class from. THAT should have been the point then on that i fully realized that i had anxiety. It was so bad that day that i woke up the next morning aomehow STILL WORRYING ABOUT MISSING THE FUCKING BUS THAT I HAD TAKEN YESTERDAY. NOT THE BUSRIDE THAT I WAS GOING TO TAKE ONCE I LEFT THE HOUSE IN 35 MINUTES THAT MORNING, NO, THE ONE I HAD ALREADY TAKEN A FULL 24 FUCKING HOURS EARLIER. Pissed me off so bad once igot out of that weird mood-headspace-feeling-whatever. Like, how fucking stupid are you? why are you worrking about this? You already did it. Just stop. Such a weird, stupid, shitty feeling. Hated it. Dont miss it.

The antidepressants they put me on are apparently a 2-for-1 deal. Sertraline, the SSRI im currently taking, supposedly helps with both anxiety and depression. Only thing that sucks is that theyve noticeably stopped working. Not for the anxiety, at least. At least i think, at least i hope. For the depression. Two weeks of painful, nonstop side effects, just for two weeks of feeling completely neutral, then for the next week (this past week! 2/9-15), just sinking back into my normal self. My thoughts hav been becoming more depressive again, more normal. Sometimes, all i can think about is how fucked up i am, how im at fault for everything. Mainly concerning my ex boyfriend, i still miss him, but not in the same way. Before, it was a type of longing, a *Yearning*, missing him. I still wanted him back, i knew he broke up with me for a reason, but a part of me felt as though i still had the slightest chance to get him back. Thats gone now. I still miss him, of course, but ive accepted completely now that i cant have him anymore. I remember, two days before valentines, i believe, asking my friend who originally was the reason why i had the balls to confess to him if he believed if i tried really hard, that i could get him back. I knew the answer would be no, but i still felt the need to ask. He said no, of course, but it felt even worse when he told me that he had told the friend that he was completely done with relationships. I dont know how true that is, of course, but i still believe that to be, just, completely bonkers. He had *one* relationship, his first ever girlfriend, he felt like he didnt do anything to help with her depression (he did, he just never gave her the chance to explain that, he never asked, although of course if she was smart, she would have told him privately after ranting in a private server chat that he helps a lot with her even if it doesnt seem like it, considering a mutual friend is the same way as her yet his girlfriend doesnt leave him), and he breaks up with her and says hes never dating again. Like, jesus christ man. Im not disrespecting him or judging his choices, but come on dude, im not that bad man. Im not gonna chase you or try to force you to love me again, but even so, he never let me just explain and tell him that he really did have an effect on me, and he helped. Instead he went for the nuclear option immediately. I really was heart broken. I had been working through my emotional disorder for years by this point, i thought i was ready to go into a real relationship, unlike my last ones, and i thought i’d be prepared. I was better, relationship wise. Clearly not mentally. At least, not enough for him. I know i did some pretty wild shit while we were dating that mightve scared him, but i always reassured him that i’d be fine, and that wasnt a lie. No matter what i put myself throug, i knew id never hurt myself. And i wasnt wrong. I never lied to him.

Idunno, i guess i just think about him too much. way too much, actually. Ever since the meds kicked in, which they did *after* we broke up, theyve been maing my paranoia better, but still prominent in a different way. Instead of constantly feeling like im being watched, like inanimate objects are cameras, im instead just… imagining the camera. Right there, in front of me. Watching me. Its like my webcams on, and im on a discord call with him, and some other friends, and they can all watch me. The only benefit to this new paranoia is that instead of feeling like everything is cameras and i must cover and shield myself from certain areas and parts of my room, this imaginary webcam is fixated to one point. On top of my desk. I dont have my laptop anymore of course, but its like imagining its still there, and the cameras just forever on, and theyre all watching me. The only place i can partially hide is in my bed, since its to the left of my desk, and the head area is behind the view of what my old laptop could see. I have to face my body away when changing of course. I also use my towel to hide my body, or change like i do on the swim team. Not hard, just an inconvenience to have to do that and feel like this in the comfort of my own room. Oh well, its better than believing that my standing mirror and hanging TV are giant cameras. The one in the vent above my window as well, i used to feel like there was a camera in there pointed down on me while i change. I’d rather ‘imaginary webcam’ than, ‘EVERYTHING IS WATCHING YOU THEYRE ALL SPYING ON YOU DONT LET YOUR GUARD DOWN HIDE HIDE HIDE HIDE EVERYTHING HIDE YOURSELF HIDE YOUR BODY DON'T LET THEM SEE.’ unpleasant times, those all were.

Im on my period right now, so i am having a bit of stomach pains, mostly just the feeling that i need to go to the bathroom even when i dont actually need to. Thats probably why ive written so much this entry, because i get very philosophical and deep when im emotional. I know those are the wrong words to deprescribe this particular page, but itd make sense if youd see what else ive ever written while menstruating. I dont normally talk like this, either. I talk like youd expect your typical 16 year old chronically online on instagram and tiktok white boy to. But, im not a typical 16 year old chronically online white boy. sigh. My tummy hurts, so i am going to stop, use the rstroom, and go to bed. Thank you for reading dis.