u/sad20yrold

I’m f20 and I’ve utterly fucked myself over. I don’t know exactly where to start, but let’s just start to when I was 17.

I was in college doing performing arts. I wasn’t an amazing actor but it was something I enjoyed and found thrill in. I liked going on stage even if I was ensemble. That was probably the last thing I ever did that I enjoyed.

At 17 I had a great group of friends, I was social, I was outside every day but… I was an alcoholic. I wasn’t just a silly teenager that enjoyed underage drinking. I depended on it.
My friends and I would be in class drunk, we’d drink even more after lessons and I’d go home wasted at 8pm and pass out. This went on for my entire 3 years in college. And it only got worse in that time.

I already struggled with mild anxiety and my addiction made it severe. I was paranoid everyday. About everything. About my mother catching me drunk, about the school finding out, about what I say to people while wasted. And everything In between.

When I finished college, I knew I didn’t want to keep doing performing arts because my anxiety “couldn’t handle it anymore”. So when I began my first year in university, I chose to do media since it was in a similar bracket.

I didn’t accommodate because I knew I wouldn’t handle the change well. I got an hour long bus ride there and back. I hated it, I hated uni. Not only was my anxiety so suffocating, I didn’t like my class, I didn’t know anything about the subject I was doing, I felt patronised everyday. Not only that but I’d reward myself with vodka at the end of the day for getting through it, and I’d go in the next day.

That December (2024) I decided to go sober. I was completely aware that i was addicted and dependent on it. I knew it was ruining my life, and I guess somehow I had the strength to do something about it. And I got sober. Well, I stopped binge drinking.

2025 I probably only drank a handful of times, special occasions, with friends, when I was on holiday.
Great! One problem sorted. Well done me. I continued going to uni, forced myself to talk to people when we did projects, my attendance was awful but I passed my first year. Great.

The thing about quitting alcohol is that it didn’t make my anxiety disappear. I still struggled with it daily. Summer 2025 was a decent summer but I was an anxious mess about everything. But still I enjoyed it as much as I could. Went to concerts with my twin. We also went to Italy. I didn’t spend much time with my college friends because they were still heavy drinkers and I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist the urge. I let them know and they understood.

After summer 2025 I really became hopeful. I was sober, I was starting second year uni. Quitting alcohol made me prettier. I was optimistic, maybe I’d even get a boyfriend.

The first week of second year all my excitement went into the bin. My anxiety was so bad, I was shaking sat in class, I was panicking, I hated it all.
So I made the decision to start antidepressants. It was my last resort, I’d tried healing my anxiety organically and nothing worked. I’m put on sertraline.

Great! Once I adjust to it life will be better. I began sertraline October 2025. By the end of first semester I was fine. Until December, I talked to my GP about raising my dose because my anxiety was still so bad.

By January I was on 100mg. And adjusting to it was very hard. So I asked for a fit note for 3 weeks so I could adjust at home. Without the stress of uni. I relaxed a little, but after those three weeks, I’d gotten severely depressed and anxious. I knew I wasn’t going back to uni any time soon. I couldn’t even leave my bed.

My mum was concerned at first, but she just didn’t care much. As long as I was still getting my SFE and she gets abit of my money ,she didn’t really question it.
It’s now may and I still haven’t gone back, the uni still emails me sometimes for support and I respond telling them if there’s any support I can have for the amount of time I’ve missed.

But quite frankly, I don’t care. I don’t care to redeem myself academically. But I also don’t care about anything else. I avoid everything else like I avoid uni. I avoided replying to my friends and now I don’t have any. I avoid leaving my bed. I avoid cooking meals, I avoid talking to my mother, I avoid EVERYTHING.
And I feel like people underestimate me when I say that. I lay in bed all day scrolling and reading, napping 5 hours and eating whatever shit is in my room. And the worst part is, I’m painfully aware of what I’m doing.

I know I have avoidant attachment, I know it came from my mother’s neglect as a child. I know I’m only living the life I’m living because it feels familiar and safe. And that’s all that matters. I know I have to push myself out there. Leave the house. Do it scared. Just do something. But I don’t want to, I don’t want to put any effort into anything. It doesn’t feel safe. So I simply won’t do it.

I would be lying if I said sertraline didn’t help, it’s definitely made a difference, and I know I need to meet it halfway because it’s not a miracle worker. But I DON’T WANT TO. I fantasise of a life I know I could have irl if I just pushed myself.
But why should I do that when I can have in my head. Why try to have friends when I can close my eyes and have them in my head? I know, I KNOW it’s pathetic and I know it’s fucked up. But I’ve severely isolated myself and I just know I’m not strong enough to get myself out of it. I’m too deep in. IM A LIVING CORPSE I could literally overdose on my sleeping pills and no one would figure it out for another 48 hours. I’m not going to make it to 30.

To think someone may have read all of this even makes me feel weird, like I’ve inconvenienced you with my life. That’s how insignificant I feel.

I’m f20 and I’ve utterly fucked myself over. I don’t know exactly where to start, but let’s just start to when I was 17.

I was in college doing performing arts. I wasn’t an amazing actor but it was something I enjoyed and found thrill in. I liked going on stage even if I was ensemble. That was probably the last thing I ever did that I enjoyed.

At 17 I had a great group of friends, I was social, I was outside every day but… I was an alcoholic. I wasn’t just a silly teenager that enjoyed underage drinking. I depended on it.
My friends and I would be in class drunk, we’d drink even more after lessons and I’d go home wasted at 8pm and pass out. This went on for my entire 3 years in college. And it only got worse in that time.

I already struggled with mild anxiety and my addiction made it severe. I was paranoid everyday. About everything. About my mother catching me drunk, about the school finding out, about what I say to people while wasted. And everything In between.

When I finished college, I knew I didn’t want to keep doing performing arts because my anxiety “couldn’t handle it anymore”. So when I began my first year in university, I chose to do media since it was in a similar bracket.

I didn’t accommodate because I knew I wouldn’t handle the change well. I got an hour long bus ride there and back. I hated it, I hated uni. Not only was my anxiety so suffocating, I didn’t like my class, I didn’t know anything about the subject I was doing, I felt patronised everyday. Not only that but I’d reward myself with vodka at the end of the day for getting through it, and I’d go in the next day.

That December (2024) I decided to go sober. I was completely aware that i was addicted and dependent on it. I knew it was ruining my life, and I guess somehow I had the strength to do something about it. And I got sober. Well, I stopped binge drinking.

2025 I probably only drank a handful of times, special occasions, with friends, when I was on holiday.
Great! One problem sorted. Well done me. I continued going to uni, forced myself to talk to people when we did projects, my attendance was awful but I passed my first year. Great.

The thing about quitting alcohol is that it didn’t make my anxiety disappear. I still struggled with it daily. Summer 2025 was a decent summer but I was an anxious mess about everything. But still I enjoyed it as much as I could. Went to concerts with my twin. We also went to Italy. I didn’t spend much time with my college friends because they were still heavy drinkers and I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist the urge. I let them know and they understood.

After summer 2025 I really became hopeful. I was sober, I was starting second year uni. Quitting alcohol made me prettier. I was optimistic, maybe I’d even get a boyfriend.

The first week of second year all my excitement went into the bin. My anxiety was so bad, I was shaking sat in class, I was panicking, I hated it all.
So I made the decision to start antidepressants. It was my last resort, I’d tried healing my anxiety organically and nothing worked. I’m put on sertraline.

Great! Once I adjust to it life will be better. I began sertraline October 2025. By the end of first semester I was fine. Until December, I talked to my GP about raising my dose because my anxiety was still so bad.

By January I was on 100mg. And adjusting to it was very hard. So I asked for a fit note for 3 weeks so I could adjust at home. Without the stress of uni. I relaxed a little, but after those three weeks, I’d gotten severely depressed and anxious. I knew I wasn’t going back to uni any time soon. I couldn’t even leave my bed.

My mum was concerned at first, but she just didn’t care much. As long as I was still getting my SFE and she gets abit of my money ,she didn’t really question it.
It’s now may and I still haven’t gone back, the uni still emails me sometimes for support and I respond telling them if there’s any support I can have for the amount of time I’ve missed.

But quite frankly, I don’t care. I don’t care to redeem myself academically. But I also don’t care about anything else. I avoid everything else like I avoid uni. I avoided replying to my friends and now I don’t have any. I avoid leaving my bed. I avoid cooking meals, I avoid talking to my mother, I avoid EVERYTHING.
And I feel like people underestimate me when I say that. I lay in bed all day scrolling and reading, napping 5 hours and eating whatever shit is in my room. And the worst part is, I’m painfully aware of what I’m doing.

I know I have avoidant attachment, I know it came from my mother’s neglect as a child. I know I’m only living the life I’m living because it feels familiar and safe. And that’s all that matters. I know I have to push myself out there. Leave the house. Do it scared. Just do something. But I don’t want to, I don’t want to put any effort into anything. It doesn’t feel safe. So I simply won’t do it.

I would be lying if I said sertraline didn’t help, it’s definitely made a difference, and I know I need to meet it halfway because it’s not a miracle worker. But I DON’T WANT TO. I fantasise of a life I know I could have irl if I just pushed myself.
But why should I do that when I can have in my head. Why try to have friends when I can close my eyes and have them in my head? I know, I KNOW it’s pathetic and I know it’s fucked up. But I’ve severely isolated myself and I just know I’m not strong enough to get myself out of it. I’m too deep in. IM A LIVING CORPSE I could literally overdose on my sleeping pills and no one would figure it out for another 48 hours. I’m not going to make it to 30.

To think someone may have read all of this even makes me feel weird, like I’ve inconvenienced you with my life. That’s how insignificant I feel.

I’m f20 and I’ve utterly fucked myself over. I don’t know exactly where to start, but let’s just start to when I was 17.

I was in college doing performing arts. I wasn’t an amazing actor but it was something I enjoyed and found thrill in. I liked going on stage even if I was ensemble. That was probably the last thing I ever did that I enjoyed.

At 17 I had a great group of friends, I was social, I was outside every day but… I was an alcoholic. I wasn’t just a silly teenager that enjoyed underage drinking. I depended on it.
My friends and I would be in class drunk, we’d drink even more after lessons and I’d go home wasted at 8pm and pass out. This went on for my entire 3 years in college. And it only got worse in that time.

I already struggled with mild anxiety and my addiction made it severe. I was paranoid everyday. About everything. About my mother catching me drunk, about the school finding out, about what I say to people while wasted. And everything In between.

When I finished college, I knew I didn’t want to keep doing performing arts because my anxiety “couldn’t handle it anymore”. So when I began my first year in university, I chose to do media since it was in a similar bracket.

I didn’t accommodate because I knew I wouldn’t handle the change well. I got an hour long bus ride there and back. I hated it, I hated uni. Not only was my anxiety so suffocating, I didn’t like my class, I didn’t know anything about the subject I was doing, I felt patronised everyday. Not only that but I’d reward myself with vodka at the end of the day for getting through it, and I’d go in the next day.

That December (2024) I decided to go sober. I was completely aware that i was addicted and dependent on it. I knew it was ruining my life, and I guess somehow I had the strength to do something about it. And I got sober. Well, I stopped binge drinking.

2025 I probably only drank a handful of times, special occasions, with friends, when I was on holiday.
Great! One problem sorted. Well done me. I continued going to uni, forced myself to talk to people when we did projects, my attendance was awful but I passed my first year. Great.

The thing about quitting alcohol is that it didn’t make my anxiety disappear. I still struggled with it daily. Summer 2025 was a decent summer but I was an anxious mess about everything. But still I enjoyed it as much as I could. Went to concerts with my twin. We also went to Italy. I didn’t spend much time with my college friends because they were still heavy drinkers and I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist the urge. I let them know and they understood.

After summer 2025 I really became hopeful. I was sober, I was starting second year uni. Quitting alcohol made me prettier. I was optimistic, maybe I’d even get a boyfriend.

The first week of second year all my excitement went into the bin. My anxiety was so bad, I was shaking sat in class, I was panicking, I hated it all.
So I made the decision to start antidepressants. It was my last resort, I’d tried healing my anxiety organically and nothing worked. I’m put on sertraline.

Great! Once I adjust to it life will be better. I began sertraline October 2025. By the end of first semester I was fine. Until December, I talked to my GP about raising my dose because my anxiety was still so bad.

By January I was on 100mg. And adjusting to it was very hard. So I asked for a fit note for 3 weeks so I could adjust at home. Without the stress of uni. I relaxed a little, but after those three weeks, I’d gotten severely depressed and anxious. I knew I wasn’t going back to uni any time soon. I couldn’t even leave my bed.

My mum was concerned at first, but she just didn’t care much. As long as I was still getting my SFE and she gets abit of my money ,she didn’t really question it.
It’s now may and I still haven’t gone back, the uni still emails me sometimes for support and I respond telling them if there’s any support I can have for the amount of time I’ve missed.

But quite frankly, I don’t care. I don’t care to redeem myself academically. But I also don’t care about anything else. I avoid everything else like I avoid uni. I avoided replying to my friends and now I don’t have any. I avoid leaving my bed. I avoid cooking meals, I avoid talking to my mother, I avoid EVERYTHING.
And I feel like people underestimate me when I say that. I lay in bed all day scrolling and reading, napping 5 hours and eating whatever shit is in my room. And the worst part is, I’m painfully aware of what I’m doing.

I know I have avoidant attachment, I know it came from my mother’s neglect as a child. I know I’m only living the life I’m living because it feels familiar and safe. And that’s all that matters. I know I have to push myself out there. Leave the house. Do it scared. Just do something. But I don’t want to, I don’t want to put any effort into anything. It doesn’t feel safe. So I simply won’t do it.

I would be lying if I said sertraline didn’t help, it’s definitely made a difference, and I know I need to meet it halfway because it’s not a miracle worker. But I DON’T WANT TO. I fantasise of a life I know I could have irl if I just pushed myself.
But why should I do that when I can have in my head. Why try to have friends when I can close my eyes and have them in my head? I know, I KNOW it’s pathetic and I know it’s fucked up. But I’ve severely isolated myself and I just know I’m not strong enough to get myself out of it. I’m too deep in. IM A LIVING CORPSE I could literally overdose on my sleeping pills and no one would figure it out for another 48 hours. I’m not going to make it to 30.

To think someone may have read all of this even makes me feel weird, like I’ve inconvenienced you with my life. That’s how insignificant I feel.

I’m f20 and I’ve utterly fucked myself over. I don’t know exactly where to start, but let’s just start to when I was 17. I was in college doing performing arts. I wasn’t an amazing actor but it was something I enjoyed and found thrill in. I liked going on stage even if I was ensemble. That was probably the last thing I ever did that I enjoyed. At 17 I had a great group of friends, I was social, I was outside every day but… I was an alcoholic. I wasn’t just a silly teenager that enjoyed underage drinking. I depended on it. My friends and I would be in class drunk, we’d drink even more after lessons and I’d go home wasted at 8pm and pass out. This went on for my entire 3 years in college. And it only got worse in that time. I already struggled with mild anxiety and my addiction made it severe. I was paranoid everyday. About everything. About my mother catching me drunk, about the school finding out, about what I say to people while wasted. And everything In between. When I finished college, I knew I didn’t want to keep doing performing arts because my anxiety “couldn’t handle it anymore”. So when I began my first year in university, I chose to do media since it was in a similar bracket. I didn’t accommodate because I knew I wouldn’t handle the change well. I got an hour long bus ride there and back. I hated it, I hated uni. Not only was my anxiety so suffocating, I didn’t like my class, I didn’t know anything about the subject I was doing, I felt patronised everyday. Not only that but I’d reward myself with vodka at the end of the day for getting through it, and I’d go in the next day. That December (2024) I decided to go sober. I was completely aware that i was addicted and dependent on it. I knew it was ruining my life, and I guess somehow I had the strength to do something about it. And I got sober. Well, I stopped binge drinking. 2025 I probably only drank a handful of times, special occasions, with friends, when I was on holiday. Great! One problem sorted. Well done me. I continued going to uni, forced myself to talk to people when we did projects, my attendance was awful but I passed my first year. Great. The thing about quitting alcohol is that it didn’t make my anxiety disappear. I still struggled with it daily. Summer 2025 was a decent summer but I was an anxious mess about everything. But still I enjoyed it as much as I could. Went to concerts with my twin. We also went to Italy. I didn’t spend much time with my college friends because they were still heavy drinkers and I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist the urge. I let them know and they understood. After summer 2025 I really became hopeful. I was sober, I was starting second year uni. Quitting alcohol made me prettier. I was optimistic, maybe I’d even get a boyfriend. The first week of second year all my excitement went into the bin. My anxiety was so bad, I was shaking sat in class, I was panicking, I hated it all. So I made the decision to start antidepressants. It was my last resort, I’d tried healing my anxiety organically and nothing worked. I’m put on sertraline. Great! Once I adjust to it life will be better. I began sertraline October 2025. By the end of first semester I was fine. Until December, I talked to my GP about raising my dose because my anxiety was still so bad. By January I was on 100mg. And adjusting to it was very hard. So I asked for a fit note for 3 weeks so I could adjust at home. Without the stress of uni. I relaxed a little, but after those three weeks, I’d gotten severely depressed and anxious. I knew I wasn’t going back to uni any time soon. I couldn’t even leave my bed. My mum was concerned at first, but she just didn’t care much. As long as I was still getting my SFE and she gets abit of my money ,she didn’t really question it. It’s now may and I still haven’t gone back, the uni still emails me sometimes for support and I respond telling them if there’s any support I can have for the amount of time I’ve missed. But quite frankly, I don’t care. I don’t care to redeem myself academically. But I also don’t care about anything else. I avoid everything else like I avoid uni. I avoided replying to my friends and now I don’t have any. I avoid leaving my bed. I avoid cooking meals, I avoid talking to my mother, I avoid EVERYTHING. And I feel like people underestimate me when I say that. I lay in bed all day scrolling and reading, napping 5 hours and eating whatever shit is in my room. And the worst part is, I’m painfully aware of what I’m doing. I know I have avoidant attachment, I know it came from my mother’s neglect as a child. I know I’m only living the life I’m living because it feels familiar and safe. And that’s all that matters. I know I have to push myself out there. Leave the house. Do it scared. Just do something. But I don’t want to, I don’t want to put any effort into anything. It doesn’t feel safe. So I simply won’t do it. I would be lying if I said sertraline didn’t help, it’s definitely made a difference, and I know I need to meet it halfway because it’s not a miracle worker. But I DON’T WANT TO. I fantasise of a life I know I could have irl if I just pushed myself. But why should I do that when I can have in my head. Why try to have friends when I can close my eyes and have them in my head? I know, I KNOW it’s pathetic and I know it’s fucked up. But I’ve severely isolated myself and I just know I’m not strong enough to get myself out of it. I’m too deep in. IM A LIVING CORPSE I could literally overdose on my sleeping pills and no one would figure it out for another 48 hours. I’m not going to make it to 30.

To think someone may have read all of this even makes me feel weird, like I’ve inconvenienced you with my life. That’s how insignificant I feel.

I’m f20 and I’ve utterly fucked myself over. I don’t know exactly where to start, but let’s just start to when I was 17. I was in college doing performing arts. I wasn’t an amazing actor but it was something I enjoyed and found thrill in. I liked going on stage even if I was ensemble. That was probably the last thing I ever did that I enjoyed. At 17 I had a great group of friends, I was social, I was outside every day but… I was an alcoholic. I wasn’t just a silly teenager that enjoyed underage drinking. I depended on it. My friends and I would be in class drunk, we’d drink even more after lessons and I’d go home wasted at 8pm and pass out. This went on for my entire 3 years in college. And it only got worse in that time. I already struggled with mild anxiety and my addiction made it severe. I was paranoid everyday. About everything. About my mother catching me drunk, about the school finding out, about what I say to people while wasted. And everything In between. When I finished college, I knew I didn’t want to keep doing performing arts because my anxiety “couldn’t handle it anymore”. So when I began my first year in university, I chose to do media since it was in a similar bracket. I didn’t accommodate because I knew I wouldn’t handle the change well. I got an hour long bus ride there and back. I hated it, I hated uni. Not only was my anxiety so suffocating, I didn’t like my class, I didn’t know anything about the subject I was doing, I felt patronised everyday. Not only that but I’d reward myself with vodka at the end of the day for getting through it, and I’d go in the next day. That December (2024) I decided to go sober. I was completely aware that i was addicted and dependent on it. I knew it was ruining my life, and I guess somehow I had the strength to do something about it. And I got sober. Well, I stopped binge drinking. 2025 I probably only drank a handful of times, special occasions, with friends, when I was on holiday. Great! One problem sorted. Well done me. I continued going to uni, forced myself to talk to people when we did projects, my attendance was awful but I passed my first year. Great. The thing about quitting alcohol is that it didn’t make my anxiety disappear. I still struggled with it daily. Summer 2025 was a decent summer but I was an anxious mess about everything. But still I enjoyed it as much as I could. Went to concerts with my twin. We also went to Italy. I didn’t spend much time with my college friends because they were still heavy drinkers and I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist the urge. I let them know and they understood. After summer 2025 I really became hopeful. I was sober, I was starting second year uni. Quitting alcohol made me prettier. I was optimistic, maybe I’d even get a boyfriend. The first week of second year all my excitement went into the bin. My anxiety was so bad, I was shaking sat in class, I was panicking, I hated it all. So I made the decision to start antidepressants. It was my last resort, I’d tried healing my anxiety organically and nothing worked. I’m put on sertraline. Great! Once I adjust to it life will be better. I began sertraline October 2025. By the end of first semester I was fine. Until December, I talked to my GP about raising my dose because my anxiety was still so bad. By January I was on 100mg. And adjusting to it was very hard. So I asked for a fit note for 3 weeks so I could adjust at home. Without the stress of uni. I relaxed a little, but after those three weeks, I’d gotten severely depressed and anxious. I knew I wasn’t going back to uni any time soon. I couldn’t even leave my bed. My mum was concerned at first, but she just didn’t care much. As long as I was still getting my SFE and she gets abit of my money ,she didn’t really question it. It’s now may and I still haven’t gone back, the uni still emails me sometimes for support and I respond telling them if there’s any support I can have for the amount of time I’ve missed. But quite frankly, I don’t care. I don’t care to redeem myself academically. But I also don’t care about anything else. I avoid everything else like I avoid uni. I avoided replying to my friends and now I don’t have any. I avoid leaving my bed. I avoid cooking meals, I avoid talking to my mother, I avoid EVERYTHING. And I feel like people underestimate me when I say that. I lay in bed all day scrolling and reading, napping 5 hours and eating whatever shit is in my room. And the worst part is, I’m painfully aware of what I’m doing. I know I have avoidant attachment, I know it came from my mother’s neglect as a child. I know I’m only living the life I’m living because it feels familiar and safe. And that’s all that matters. I know I have to push myself out there. Leave the house. Do it scared. Just do something. But I don’t want to, I don’t want to put any effort into anything. It doesn’t feel safe. So I simply won’t do it. I would be lying if I said sertraline didn’t help, it’s definitely made a difference, and I know I need to meet it halfway because it’s not a miracle worker. But I DON’T WANT TO. I fantasise of a life I know I could have irl if I just pushed myself. But why should I do that when I can have in my head. Why try to have friends when I can close my eyes and have them in my head? I know, I KNOW it’s pathetic and I know it’s fucked up. But I’ve severely isolated myself and I just know I’m not strong enough to get myself out of it. I’m too deep in. IM A LIVING CORPSE I could literally overdose on my sleeping pills and no one would figure it out for another 48 hours. I’m not going to make it to 30.

To think someone may have read all of this even makes me feel weird, like I’ve inconvenienced you with my life. That’s how insignificant I feel.

I’m f20 and I’ve utterly fucked myself over. I don’t know exactly where to start, but let’s just start to when I was 17. I was in college doing performing arts. I wasn’t an amazing actor but it was something I enjoyed and found thrill in. I liked going on stage even if I was ensemble. That was probably the last thing I ever did that I enjoyed. At 17 I had a great group of friends, I was social, I was outside every day but… I was an alcoholic. I wasn’t just a silly teenager that enjoyed underage drinking. I depended on it. My friends and I would be in class drunk, we’d drink even more after lessons and I’d go home wasted at 8pm and pass out. This went on for my entire 3 years in college. And it only got worse in that time. I already struggled with mild anxiety and my addiction made it severe. I was paranoid everyday. About everything. About my mother catching me drunk, about the school finding out, about what I say to people while wasted. And everything In between. When I finished college, I knew I didn’t want to keep doing performing arts because my anxiety “couldn’t handle it anymore”. So when I began my first year in university, I chose to do media since it was in a similar bracket. I didn’t accommodate because I knew I wouldn’t handle the change well. I got an hour long bus ride there and back. I hated it, I hated uni. Not only was my anxiety so suffocating, I didn’t like my class, I didn’t know anything about the subject I was doing, I felt patronised everyday. Not only that but I’d reward myself with vodka at the end of the day for getting through it, and I’d go in the next day. That December (2024) I decided to go sober. I was completely aware that i was addicted and dependent on it. I knew it was ruining my life, and I guess somehow I had the strength to do something about it. And I got sober. Well, I stopped binge drinking. 2025 I probably only drank a handful of times, special occasions, with friends, when I was on holiday. Great! One problem sorted. Well done me. I continued going to uni, forced myself to talk to people when we did projects, my attendance was awful but I passed my first year. Great. The thing about quitting alcohol is that it didn’t make my anxiety disappear. I still struggled with it daily. Summer 2025 was a decent summer but I was an anxious mess about everything. But still I enjoyed it as much as I could. Went to concerts with my twin. We also went to Italy. I didn’t spend much time with my college friends because they were still heavy drinkers and I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist the urge. I let them know and they understood. After summer 2025 I really became hopeful. I was sober, I was starting second year uni. Quitting alcohol made me prettier. I was optimistic, maybe I’d even get a boyfriend. The first week of second year all my excitement went into the bin. My anxiety was so bad, I was shaking sat in class, I was panicking, I hated it all. So I made the decision to start antidepressants. It was my last resort, I’d tried healing my anxiety organically and nothing worked. I’m put on sertraline. Great! Once I adjust to it life will be better. I began sertraline October 2025. By the end of first semester I was fine. Until December, I talked to my GP about raising my dose because my anxiety was still so bad. By January I was on 100mg. And adjusting to it was very hard. So I asked for a fit note for 3 weeks so I could adjust at home. Without the stress of uni. I relaxed a little, but after those three weeks, I’d gotten severely depressed and anxious. I knew I wasn’t going back to uni any time soon. I couldn’t even leave my bed. My mum was concerned at first, but she just didn’t care much. As long as I was still getting my SFE and she gets abit of my money ,she didn’t really question it. It’s now may and I still haven’t gone back, the uni still emails me sometimes for support and I respond telling them if there’s any support I can have for the amount of time I’ve missed. But quite frankly, I don’t care. I don’t care to redeem myself academically. But I also don’t care about anything else. I avoid everything else like I avoid uni. I avoided replying to my friends and now I don’t have any. I avoid leaving my bed. I avoid cooking meals, I avoid talking to my mother, I avoid EVERYTHING. And I feel like people underestimate me when I say that. I lay in bed all day scrolling and reading, napping 5 hours and eating whatever shit is in my room. And the worst part is, I’m painfully aware of what I’m doing. I know I have avoidant attachment, I know it came from my mother’s neglect as a child. I know I’m only living the life I’m living because it feels familiar and safe. And that’s all that matters. I know I have to push myself out there. Leave the house. Do it scared. Just do something. But I don’t want to, I don’t want to put any effort into anything. It doesn’t feel safe. So I simply won’t do it. I would be lying if I said sertraline didn’t help, it’s definitely made a difference, and I know I need to meet it halfway because it’s not a miracle worker. But I DON’T WANT TO. I fantasise of a life I know I could have irl if I just pushed myself. But why should I do that when I can have in my head. Why try to have friends when I can close my eyes and have them in my head? I know, I KNOW it’s pathetic and I know it’s fucked up. But I’ve severely isolated myself and I just know I’m not strong enough to get myself out of it. I’m too deep in. IM A LIVING CORPSE I could literally overdose on my sleeping pills and no one would figure it out for another 48 hours. I’m not going to make it to 30.

To think someone may have read all of this even makes me feel weird, like I’ve inconvenienced you with my life. That’s how insignificant I feel.

I’m f20 and I’ve utterly fucked myself over. I don’t know exactly where to start, but let’s just start to when I was 17. I was in college doing performing arts. I wasn’t an amazing actor but it was something I enjoyed and found thrill in. I liked going on stage even if I was ensemble. That was probably the last thing I ever did that I enjoyed. At 17 I had a great group of friends, I was social, I was outside every day but… I was an alcoholic. I wasn’t just a silly teenager that enjoyed underage drinking. I depended on it. My friends and I would be in class drunk, we’d drink even more after lessons and I’d go home wasted at 8pm and pass out. This went on for my entire 3 years in college. And it only got worse in that time. I already struggled with mild anxiety and my addiction made it severe. I was paranoid everyday. About everything. About my mother catching me drunk, about the school finding out, about what I say to people while wasted. And everything In between. When I finished college, I knew I didn’t want to keep doing performing arts because my anxiety “couldn’t handle it anymore”. So when I began my first year in university, I chose to do media since it was in a similar bracket. I didn’t accommodate because I knew I wouldn’t handle the change well. I got an hour long bus ride there and back. I hated it, I hated uni. Not only was my anxiety so suffocating, I didn’t like my class, I didn’t know anything about the subject I was doing, I felt patronised everyday. Not only that but I’d reward myself with vodka at the end of the day for getting through it, and I’d go in the next day. That December (2024) I decided to go sober. I was completely aware that i was addicted and dependent on it. I knew it was ruining my life, and I guess somehow I had the strength to do something about it. And I got sober. Well, I stopped binge drinking. 2025 I probably only drank a handful of times, special occasions, with friends, when I was on holiday. Great! One problem sorted. Well done me. I continued going to uni, forced myself to talk to people when we did projects, my attendance was awful but I passed my first year. Great. The thing about quitting alcohol is that it didn’t make my anxiety disappear. I still struggled with it daily. Summer 2025 was a decent summer but I was an anxious mess about everything. But still I enjoyed it as much as I could. Went to concerts with my twin. We also went to Italy. I didn’t spend much time with my college friends because they were still heavy drinkers and I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist the urge. I let them know and they understood. After summer 2025 I really became hopeful. I was sober, I was starting second year uni. Quitting alcohol made me prettier. I was optimistic, maybe I’d even get a boyfriend. The first week of second year all my excitement went into the bin. My anxiety was so bad, I was shaking sat in class, I was panicking, I hated it all. So I made the decision to start antidepressants. It was my last resort, I’d tried healing my anxiety organically and nothing worked. I’m put on sertraline. Great! Once I adjust to it life will be better. I began sertraline October 2025. By the end of first semester I was fine. Until December, I talked to my GP about raising my dose because my anxiety was still so bad. By January I was on 100mg. And adjusting to it was very hard. So I asked for a fit note for 3 weeks so I could adjust at home. Without the stress of uni. I relaxed a little, but after those three weeks, I’d gotten severely depressed and anxious. I knew I wasn’t going back to uni any time soon. I couldn’t even leave my bed. My mum was concerned at first, but she just didn’t care much. As long as I was still getting my SFE and she gets abit of my money ,she didn’t really question it. It’s now may and I still haven’t gone back, the uni still emails me sometimes for support and I respond telling them if there’s any support I can have for the amount of time I’ve missed. But quite frankly, I don’t care. I don’t care to redeem myself academically. But I also don’t care about anything else. I avoid everything else like I avoid uni. I avoided replying to my friends and now I don’t have any. I avoid leaving my bed. I avoid cooking meals, I avoid talking to my mother, I avoid EVERYTHING. And I feel like people underestimate me when I say that. I lay in bed all day scrolling and reading, napping 5 hours and eating whatever shit is in my room. And the worst part is, I’m painfully aware of what I’m doing. I know I have avoidant attachment, I know it came from my mother’s neglect as a child. I know I’m only living the life I’m living because it feels familiar and safe. And that’s all that matters. I know I have to push myself out there. Leave the house. Do it scared. Just do something. But I don’t want to, I don’t want to put any effort into anything. It doesn’t feel safe. So I simply won’t do it. I would be lying if I said sertraline didn’t help, it’s definitely made a difference, and I know I need to meet it halfway because it’s not a miracle worker. But I DON’T WANT TO. I fantasise of a life I know I could have irl if I just pushed myself. But why should I do that when I can have in my head. Why try to have friends when I can close my eyes and have them in my head? I know, I KNOW it’s pathetic and I know it’s fucked up. But I’ve severely isolated myself and I just know I’m not strong enough to get myself out of it. I’m too deep in. IM A LIVING CORPSE I could literally overdose on my sleeping pills and no one would figure it out for another 48 hours. I’m not going to make it to 30.

To think someone may have read all of this even makes me feel weird, like I’ve inconvenienced you with my life. That’s how insignificant I feel.

I’m f20 and I’ve utterly fucked myself over. I don’t know exactly where to start, but let’s just start to when I was 17. I was in college doing performing arts. I wasn’t an amazing actor but it was something I enjoyed and found thrill in. I liked going on stage even if I was ensemble. That was probably the last thing I ever did that I enjoyed. At 17 I had a great group of friends, I was social, I was outside every day but… I was an alcoholic. I wasn’t just a silly teenager that enjoyed underage drinking. I depended on it. My friends and I would be in class drunk, we’d drink even more after lessons and I’d go home wasted at 8pm and pass out. This went on for my entire 3 years in college. And it only got worse in that time. I already struggled with mild anxiety and my addiction made it severe. I was paranoid everyday. About everything. About my mother catching me drunk, about the school finding out, about what I say to people while wasted. And everything In between. When I finished college, I knew I didn’t want to keep doing performing arts because my anxiety “couldn’t handle it anymore”. So when I began my first year in university, I chose to do media since it was in a similar bracket. I didn’t accommodate because I knew I wouldn’t handle the change well. I got an hour long bus ride there and back. I hated it, I hated uni. Not only was my anxiety so suffocating, I didn’t like my class, I didn’t know anything about the subject I was doing, I felt patronised everyday. Not only that but I’d reward myself with vodka at the end of the day for getting through it, and I’d go in the next day. That December (2024) I decided to go sober. I was completely aware that i was addicted and dependent on it. I knew it was ruining my life, and I guess somehow I had the strength to do something about it. And I got sober. Well, I stopped binge drinking. 2025 I probably only drank a handful of times, special occasions, with friends, when I was on holiday. Great! One problem sorted. Well done me. I continued going to uni, forced myself to talk to people when we did projects, my attendance was awful but I passed my first year. Great. The thing about quitting alcohol is that it didn’t make my anxiety disappear. I still struggled with it daily. Summer 2025 was a decent summer but I was an anxious mess about everything. But still I enjoyed it as much as I could. Went to concerts with my twin. We also went to Italy. I didn’t spend much time with my college friends because they were still heavy drinkers and I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist the urge. I let them know and they understood. After summer 2025 I really became hopeful. I was sober, I was starting second year uni. Quitting alcohol made me prettier. I was optimistic, maybe I’d even get a boyfriend. The first week of second year all my excitement went into the bin. My anxiety was so bad, I was shaking sat in class, I was panicking, I hated it all. So I made the decision to start antidepressants. It was my last resort, I’d tried healing my anxiety organically and nothing worked. I’m put on sertraline. Great! Once I adjust to it life will be better. I began sertraline October 2025. By the end of first semester I was fine. Until December, I talked to my GP about raising my dose because my anxiety was still so bad. By January I was on 100mg. And adjusting to it was very hard. So I asked for a fit note for 3 weeks so I could adjust at home. Without the stress of uni. I relaxed a little, but after those three weeks, I’d gotten severely depressed and anxious. I knew I wasn’t going back to uni any time soon. I couldn’t even leave my bed. My mum was concerned at first, but she just didn’t care much. As long as I was still getting my SFE and she gets abit of my money ,she didn’t really question it. It’s now may and I still haven’t gone back, the uni still emails me sometimes for support and I respond telling them if there’s any support I can have for the amount of time I’ve missed. But quite frankly, I don’t care. I don’t care to redeem myself academically. But I also don’t care about anything else. I avoid everything else like I avoid uni. I avoided replying to my friends and now I don’t have any. I avoid leaving my bed. I avoid cooking meals, I avoid talking to my mother, I avoid EVERYTHING. And I feel like people underestimate me when I say that. I lay in bed all day scrolling and reading, napping 5 hours and eating whatever shit is in my room. And the worst part is, I’m painfully aware of what I’m doing. I know I have avoidant attachment, I know it came from my mother’s neglect as a child. I know I’m only living the life I’m living because it feels familiar and safe. And that’s all that matters. I know I have to push myself out there. Leave the house. Do it scared. Just do something. But I don’t want to, I don’t want to put any effort into anything. It doesn’t feel safe. So I simply won’t do it. I would be lying if I said sertraline didn’t help, it’s definitely made a difference, and I know I need to meet it halfway because it’s not a miracle worker. But I DON’T WANT TO. I fantasise of a life I know I could have irl if I just pushed myself. But why should I do that when I can have in my head. Why try to have friends when I can close my eyes and have them in my head? I know, I KNOW it’s pathetic and I know it’s fucked up. But I’ve severely isolated myself and I just know I’m not strong enough to get myself out of it. I’m too deep in. IM A LIVING CORPSE I could literally overdose on my sleeping pills and no one would figure it out for another 48 hours. I’m not going to make it to 30.

To think someone may have read all of this even makes me feel weird, like I’ve inconvenienced you with my life. That’s how insignificant I feel.

I’m f20 and I’ve utterly fucked myself over. I don’t know exactly where to start, but let’s just start to when I was 17. I was in college doing performing arts. I wasn’t an amazing actor but it was something I enjoyed and found thrill in. I liked going on stage even if I was ensemble. That was probably the last thing I ever did that I enjoyed. At 17 I had a great group of friends, I was social, I was outside every day but… I was an alcoholic. I wasn’t just a silly teenager that enjoyed underage drinking. I depended on it. My friends and I would be in class drunk, we’d drink even more after lessons and I’d go home wasted at 8pm and pass out. This went on for my entire 3 years in college. And it only got worse in that time. I already struggled with mild anxiety and my addiction made it severe. I was paranoid everyday. About everything. About my mother catching me drunk, about the school finding out, about what I say to people while wasted. And everything In between. When I finished college, I knew I didn’t want to keep doing performing arts because my anxiety “couldn’t handle it anymore”. So when I began my first year in university, I chose to do media since it was in a similar bracket. I didn’t accommodate because I knew I wouldn’t handle the change well. I got an hour long bus ride there and back. I hated it, I hated uni. Not only was my anxiety so suffocating, I didn’t like my class, I didn’t know anything about the subject I was doing, I felt patronised everyday. Not only that but I’d reward myself with vodka at the end of the day for getting through it, and I’d go in the next day. That December (2024) I decided to go sober. I was completely aware that i was addicted and dependent on it. I knew it was ruining my life, and I guess somehow I had the strength to do something about it. And I got sober. Well, I stopped binge drinking. 2025 I probably only drank a handful of times, special occasions, with friends, when I was on holiday. Great! One problem sorted. Well done me. I continued going to uni, forced myself to talk to people when we did projects, my attendance was awful but I passed my first year. Great. The thing about quitting alcohol is that it didn’t make my anxiety disappear. I still struggled with it daily. Summer 2025 was a decent summer but I was an anxious mess about everything. But still I enjoyed it as much as I could. Went to concerts with my twin. We also went to Italy. I didn’t spend much time with my college friends because they were still heavy drinkers and I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist the urge. I let them know and they understood. After summer 2025 I really became hopeful. I was sober, I was starting second year uni. Quitting alcohol made me prettier. I was optimistic, maybe I’d even get a boyfriend. The first week of second year all my excitement went into the bin. My anxiety was so bad, I was shaking sat in class, I was panicking, I hated it all. So I made the decision to start antidepressants. It was my last resort, I’d tried healing my anxiety organically and nothing worked. I’m put on sertraline. Great! Once I adjust to it life will be better. I began sertraline October 2025. By the end of first semester I was fine. Until December, I talked to my GP about raising my dose because my anxiety was still so bad. By January I was on 100mg. And adjusting to it was very hard. So I asked for a fit note for 3 weeks so I could adjust at home. Without the stress of uni. I relaxed a little, but after those three weeks, I’d gotten severely depressed and anxious. I knew I wasn’t going back to uni any time soon. I couldn’t even leave my bed. My mum was concerned at first, but she just didn’t care much. As long as I was still getting my SFE and she gets abit of my money ,she didn’t really question it. It’s now may and I still haven’t gone back, the uni still emails me sometimes for support and I respond telling them if there’s any support I can have for the amount of time I’ve missed. But quite frankly, I don’t care. I don’t care to redeem myself academically. But I also don’t care about anything else. I avoid everything else like I avoid uni. I avoided replying to my friends and now I don’t have any. I avoid leaving my bed. I avoid cooking meals, I avoid talking to my mother, I avoid EVERYTHING. And I feel like people underestimate me when I say that. I lay in bed all day scrolling and reading, napping 5 hours and eating whatever shit is in my room. And the worst part is, I’m painfully aware of what I’m doing. I know I have avoidant attachment, I know it came from my mother’s neglect as a child. I know I’m only living the life I’m living because it feels familiar and safe. And that’s all that matters. I know I have to push myself out there. Leave the house. Do it scared. Just do something. But I don’t want to, I don’t want to put any effort into anything. It doesn’t feel safe. So I simply won’t do it. I would be lying if I said sertraline didn’t help, it’s definitely made a difference, and I know I need to meet it halfway because it’s not a miracle worker. But I DON’T WANT TO. I fantasise of a life I know I could have irl if I just pushed myself. But why should I do that when I can have in my head. Why try to have friends when I can close my eyes and have them in my head? I know, I KNOW it’s pathetic and I know it’s fucked up. But I’ve severely isolated myself and I just know I’m not strong enough to get myself out of it. I’m too deep in. IM A LIVING CORPSE I could literally overdose on my sleeping pills and no one would figure it out for another 48 hours. I’m not going to make it to 30.

To think someone may have read all of this even makes me feel weird, like I’ve inconvenienced you with my life. That’s how insignificant I feel.

I’m f20 and I’ve utterly fucked myself over. I don’t know exactly where to start, but let’s just start to when I was 17. I was in college doing performing arts. I wasn’t an amazing actor but it was something I enjoyed and found thrill in. I liked going on stage even if I was ensemble. That was probably the last thing I ever did that I enjoyed. At 17 I had a great group of friends, I was social, I was outside every day but… I was an alcoholic. I wasn’t just a silly teenager that enjoyed underage drinking. I depended on it. My friends and I would be in class drunk, we’d drink even more after lessons and I’d go home wasted at 8pm and pass out. This went on for my entire 3 years in college. And it only got worse in that time. I already struggled with mild anxiety and my addiction made it severe. I was paranoid everyday. About everything. About my mother catching me drunk, about the school finding out, about what I say to people while wasted. And everything In between. When I finished college, I knew I didn’t want to keep doing performing arts because my anxiety “couldn’t handle it anymore”. So when I began my first year in university, I chose to do media since it was in a similar bracket. I didn’t accommodate because I knew I wouldn’t handle the change well. I got an hour long bus ride there and back. I hated it, I hated uni. Not only was my anxiety so suffocating, I didn’t like my class, I didn’t know anything about the subject I was doing, I felt patronised everyday. Not only that but I’d reward myself with vodka at the end of the day for getting through it, and I’d go in the next day. That December (2024) I decided to go sober. I was completely aware that i was addicted and dependent on it. I knew it was ruining my life, and I guess somehow I had the strength to do something about it. And I got sober. Well, I stopped binge drinking. 2025 I probably only drank a handful of times, special occasions, with friends, when I was on holiday. Great! One problem sorted. Well done me. I continued going to uni, forced myself to talk to people when we did projects, my attendance was awful but I passed my first year. Great. The thing about quitting alcohol is that it didn’t make my anxiety disappear. I still struggled with it daily. Summer 2025 was a decent summer but I was an anxious mess about everything. But still I enjoyed it as much as I could. Went to concerts with my twin. We also went to Italy. I didn’t spend much time with my college friends because they were still heavy drinkers and I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist the urge. I let them know and they understood. After summer 2025 I really became hopeful. I was sober, I was starting second year uni. Quitting alcohol made me prettier. I was optimistic, maybe I’d even get a boyfriend. The first week of second year all my excitement went into the bin. My anxiety was so bad, I was shaking sat in class, I was panicking, I hated it all. So I made the decision to start antidepressants. It was my last resort, I’d tried healing my anxiety organically and nothing worked. I’m put on sertraline. Great! Once I adjust to it life will be better. I began sertraline October 2025. By the end of first semester I was fine. Until December, I talked to my GP about raising my dose because my anxiety was still so bad. By January I was on 100mg. And adjusting to it was very hard. So I asked for a fit note for 3 weeks so I could adjust at home. Without the stress of uni. I relaxed a little, but after those three weeks, I’d gotten severely depressed and anxious. I knew I wasn’t going back to uni any time soon. I couldn’t even leave my bed. My mum was concerned at first, but she just didn’t care much. As long as I was still getting my SFE and she gets abit of my money ,she didn’t really question it. It’s now may and I still haven’t gone back, the uni still emails me sometimes for support and I respond telling them if there’s any support I can have for the amount of time I’ve missed. But quite frankly, I don’t care. I don’t care to redeem myself academically. But I also don’t care about anything else. I avoid everything else like I avoid uni. I avoided replying to my friends and now I don’t have any. I avoid leaving my bed. I avoid cooking meals, I avoid talking to my mother, I avoid EVERYTHING. And I feel like people underestimate me when I say that. I lay in bed all day scrolling and reading, napping 5 hours and eating whatever shit is in my room. And the worst part is, I’m painfully aware of what I’m doing. I know I have avoidant attachment, I know it came from my mother’s neglect as a child. I know I’m only living the life I’m living because it feels familiar and safe. And that’s all that matters. I know I have to push myself out there. Leave the house. Do it scared. Just do something. But I don’t want to, I don’t want to put any effort into anything. It doesn’t feel safe. So I simply won’t do it. I would be lying if I said sertraline didn’t help, it’s definitely made a difference, and I know I need to meet it halfway because it’s not a miracle worker. But I DON’T WANT TO. I fantasise of a life I know I could have irl if I just pushed myself. But why should I do that when I can have in my head. Why try to have friends when I can close my eyes and have them in my head? I know, I KNOW it’s pathetic and I know it’s fucked up. But I’ve severely isolated myself and I just know I’m not strong enough to get myself out of it. I’m too deep in. IM A LIVING CORPSE I could literally overdose on my sleeping pills and no one would figure it out for another 48 hours. I’m not going to make it to 30.

To think someone may have read all of this even makes me feel weird, like I’ve inconvenienced you with my life. That’s how insignificant I feel.

If I was ever asked “who’s the one person you love most in the world”
it wouldn’t be my mother that comes first to mind, nor my father, nor my lover.
That title has only ever belonged to one person. And that’s my sister.
The person who’s known me longer than myself, the person who’s seen me at rock bottom and helped carve the steps upwards.
She’s not just my sister to me, she could never be just that. She is my blood, my genetic code, she is my universe and I orbit her quietly.
I crave the future we are both running towards, but I’m also terrified. Haunted by the idea that it won’t include you forever.
As fate will have it, we’ll live separate lives, eat at different tables, and come to know different people.
I cannot fathom a life where I don’t see her everyday. When people say they cannot live without someone I used to doubt them, now I think they were only ever telling the truth.
How does one breathe with half a heart?
How does one move through life with half their blood missing?
How am I meant to simply go on.
I wish we could stay within these four walls forever, but I know one day we’ll be pulled apart.
So for now, I’ll keep enjoying your company, keep sharing my meals with you, keep laughing until my stomach hurts. Because one day I’ll be alone, worlds away from you, and it will be these memories that keep me warm until we meet again.

F20. I have never been in a serious relationship, I’ve never been in a relationship at all actually. The little romantic interactions I’ve had in my life never went anywhere because I didn’t let it. For years I wondered what was wrong with me, how do other people get into relationships? How are they not scared? Why do they make it look so easy? After finding out I had avoidant tendencies it all made so much sense. But the internet paints avoidant people to be monsters and cruel. I want to fall in love so bad. It’s pretty much the only goal I have in life, but how could I? I’ve steered clear from romantic connections because I don’t want to hurt anyone or inconvenience them with my complicated ways of living. But I just wish someone could understand, I wish someone could be patient with me. But I know the only way I’d ever be in a relationship is if I was forced into it against my will or something. And now I’m scared I’ll never fall in love. That I’ll spend my entire life running away from the one thing I want so bad.

I’m f20 who lives in the uk. Growing up I was very shy, I was also raised in an extremely religious household. I was raised by my father to believe that relationships were a sin, that kissing on the lips was a sin, hell that even having boys as friends was a sin. On the contrary my mother raised me to believe that men are pigs, that they only want one thing, and if you give it to them then you’re an idiot. She hates men, she doesn’t believe in love and shames me for wanting to fall in love in the future. She’s on husband number 4 and she just doesn’t care much for them. They’re disposable to her. In secondary school all my girl friends loved following their crushes around school, or sitting close to them to stare at them. And I remember thinking it was pathetic, I liked to put myself on a pedestal, I liked thinking I was “better” than most girls because I refused to chase a man. Obviously I had crushes growing up but that’s all it was, a crush. I never even gave myself the option to confess because I preferred watching them from a distance, it felt safe, I couldn’t get hurt. Now at 20 I understand that I have severe avoidant tendencies and I even know where it specifically came from. But these tendencies are stripping everything away from me. A lot has happened to me in the past two years, I started uni but refused to accommodate, which I think made it harder to make friends or even a social life. And after a year into it I had a massive decline in my mental health. Long story short, I began antidepressants, abandoned uni (haven’t went since December), got sober from a three year alcohol addiction which is pretty good, but now I’m alone. I spend everyday in bed, I have no friends, and lack romance, social interactions, pretty much a regular life. I know I need to begin stepping out of my comfort zone, putting myself out there. But I don’t know how, and most importantly I don’t want to put the effort in, it seems too hard. So really I’m just a loser chud and I might aswell put myself in my grave now because after reading this Im realising there’s no hope lol, and also this is so poorly written wtf. Anyways yeah. I want to live but I don’t want to put in the effort so might aswell drop me in the middle of the ocean or sum.

Thanks for reading if anyone did.