Wednesday, April 20, 2011

I think I need to write some stuff out, get it out of my head ... I feel like here is the only place that I can come, be honest, and just say whatever I'm thinking ... Go the blog :-) ...

I feel anxious all the time.

This is my home, but it doesn't feel like it any more. I feel like I'm not wanted, like I don't belong.

Like this is just somewhere that I'm staying, like the sooner I'm gone the better.

I know that's probably silly, I know that my housemate probably doesn't mean to make me feel like that, probably doesn't even realise that's how I feel ... But that is the way that I feel. I can't help it.

I feel so anxious, all the time. I feel sick in my tummy. Even when I'm at work, and I think about home, my tummy starts churning, and I feel like throwing up.

Every time I leave something on the bench or the kitchen table, my housemate puts it straight in my room. It makes me feel like this isn't my home, I can't leave my stuff around.

I know this isn't my house. I don't own it. My housemate does. But, until a few weeks ago, it was my home.

Now it doesn't even feel like my home.

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