The moment I tried opening up to people again, I instantly regretted it.

After a while, I pushed all of them away, I wanted to be alone for days. I kept lying about why I was gone, saying it's about family when in reality I was being selfish. I didn't like people becoming close to me; I put on a face just to act nice--and it's worked for years. But it is extremely exhausting to do.

So I pushed them away, came back today, and told myself: "Congrats on giving yourself more anxiety." I hate myself for doing this and feeling like this, but I keep thinking this is the best way to have the least possible anxiety I can get. It feels like a neverending fever with only temporary cures. I can't remember the last time I was genuine.