I used to be so goddamn scared all the time.

Woke dehydrated after a night of overindulgent drinking this morning, with cotton mouth and a desperate thirst. No immediate dread of what I may or may not have done, so I count this as a win. Remembered all the drunken and sad, hungover ramblings I’ve posted before. Missed you dearly.

I used to be so goddamn scared all the time. Scared of drinking. Scared of upsetting my mother. Scared of writing. Scared of people, new and old, friend or foe. Scared of leaving my room. Scared of monsters in the dark. I should be scared right now as [Redacted] is sitting in front of me, planning a horror game. I hate horror. However, I can’t find it in me to look away or be scared. I’m here with [Redacted] in our cosy college apartment, and nothing could scare or get me in our cosy college apartment. Anyways. Scared of taking up space. Grown a lot more comfortable with just simply existing lately. Having my presence in a space without a reason why. Reminds me a lot of more comfortable times. When I didn’t feel this itching under my skin or this need to try to be quiet, take up less space and not embarrass myself. Don’t embarrass your friends. I used to be so goddamn scared all the time. I used to think a lot back then, too.

Have no time for that nowadays. Thinking, I mean. Between exam seasons, writing what may become my debut novel (hopefully), the holidays coming up, and trying (being forced to by [Redacted 2]) to catch up on all the media I’ve missed over the years. I’m booked. If I started overthinking as I used to, I believe my brain would shut down. Had a small episode of overthinking this week, unable to move, a familiar sinking feeling in my throat and stomach. Received a phone call from [Redacted 2] telling me to come out into our sitting room for Secret Santa. See what I mean, no time for thinking. Ended up having a great time, and the world didn’t end.

Noticed something this week that I’ve noticed for a bit, but it’s grown lately. People keep on telling me I’m “way too good”. I don’t know if it’s a common phrase used on the West Coast. I’ve decided it is. Freaked me out the first few times I heard it aimed towards me because a few years back, I didn’t believe I was a human with rights or emotions, and last Winter drove me to a new terrifying area of madness. Didn’t think I’d see the coming Winter. Hollow is a pretty good word for that time. Over that now, anyways. Pretty much, as long as my heart keeps beating, I count as a human, so no point getting in my own head. I do wonder if they mean it sometimes, if I am considered good? Hearing it now causes a warming feeling in my chest, once again proving I do have a heart and it is still beating. And maybe just maybe it is a good heart. Not literally, of course, given my family’s health history of sudden heart attacks leading to sudden death. I think [Redacted] is good. I think [Redacted 2] is good, if not one of the best. I think [Redacted 3] is good because she raised me. I think [Redacted 4] is good, so good in fact she rekindled something in me I didn’t even realise I was missing until I met her. I think [Redacted 5] tries to be good, and surely that counts for something. I think it’s better if I just stop being scared and thinking.