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.