|angsty is my middle name
||[Jan. 12th, 2005|11:23 am]
I am fucked as of late. My brain is reverting to its old habits of teetering between depression and anxiety. I'm getting panic attacks. I'm getting self-destructive impulses. I am overwhelmed. I am ready to quit. I would go to the doctor and get medication but I have no insurance and cannot afford the prescriptions. I don't even know if I'll have enough money to pay my bills this month. School starts in a week and I am not registered. I am in the weeds, as they say.
Jimmy, an old friend of mine who moved away just before my mother died, called me yesterday saying he moved back to Jersey. He was in my car within five minutes of me talking to him, such was my enthusiasm to see him again. We talked a lot and have more in common now than ever, and I think having him around me will be one of the better things that happens to me this year. We always said it was me and him against the world, and I think that holds more truth now than it ever has. I am grateful he's back home again; he's the only person that knows me from early adolescence, knows where I came from and how I got where I am now. We used to smoke a lot of pot...with my mom. Good times. Come to think of it, he's the only person I know who's met my mother. Everyone else has come into my life after the fact. That's a scary thought. All the more reason for me to thank my lucky fucking stars for fate giving him back to me.
I started smoking again. I am weak. And worried about what I'll do to myself if I have no chemical support. I'd rather not find out.