I'm ok, I'm doing well, I'm happy

Apart from the panic attacks, the sleepless nights, the suicidal thoughts, the constant fear that everyone's going to leave me, and that something bad is just waiting to happen.

I keep trying to build these walls, to keep out the pain and anger and all this suffering, but I'm worried it's going to keep out love, friends, things I'd actually give a shit about. But maybe it's worth that sacrifice. Because it's easier to be alone, than to be hurt again. At least that's what I keep telling myself, keep convincing myself that I'm doing the right thing.

But all it's done is keep my emotions trapped, balled up inside me, trying to crush them down to be as small as possible, but that doesn't work. Because the more you push things down the more they can explode out. And when that happens, I can't control it, I can't control my emotions, and I don't know what's going to come out, sometimes it's fits of anger that feel so vicious. Or sadness that feels like it's drowning me.

But I don't know what else to do, and I keep telling myself that maybe this is what I deserve, maybe just maybe I'm not meant for anything else, anything better. I hate myself, but wants others to love me, and care for me, and I keep getting told that can't work, that I need to love myself first, before anyone else can truly love me. But this is still me, maybe broken, but it's still me, and if someone can't love or care for me when my mind is buried so deep in darkness, then can they ever really love or care for the real me, or can they only love the perfect picturesque version of me. Because I'm not that, and I'm worried I never will be.

And I'm worried I'll never be loved, never have friends that want to stay around, never feel ok, never want to be alive, never be peaceful in my own mind, never worth anything.