I suppose that part of the point of having this space is that I get to use it to talk about whatever I want (or, in this case, need) to.

I take a lot of pleasure in the small things in life (a bike ride, a joke, a bulgur salad) because I choke with anxiety and grief confronting the big things (love, work, writing.) I spend most of my time feeling fairly grim; these flashes of beauty (the vividness of roses, a well-turned phrase, gaudily frosted cupcakes) are like little sips of air, allowing me to go on through the fear that curdles in my throat.

This crushing sense of hopelessness I think has always been with me, always holding back and inhibiting me. It has gotten worse over the past six months or so, and in its strongest manifestation takes the particularly charming form of a persistent conviction that nobody, especially my closest friends, much cares for me. I am clever and argumentative and when all that intelligence and verbal dexterity turn to the process of picking away at myself, the results are devastating.

So, the bad news is, I feel particularly bad. The good news is, I feel bad enough to have acknowledged it and started doing something about it. I really hope that by confronting this problem I can - it feels impossible but say it - get rid of it. I have started therapy and I plan to use this space and any other tools that come to hand to think/act constructively to free myself.