It's been five years since I first experienced anxiety.

It always feels like mourning this time around. I wonder who I could've been. Rationally after therapy and lots of experiences, I know it was an accident waiting to happen. But still, I was so little. I had my teenage years ahead of me. Now they're over.

I miss not getting obsessive thoughts that leave me ruminating from months on end. I miss not waking up at five am panicking. I miss not powering through, and putting on this facade that slowly pulled me down until, it seems, only a whisper of the cheerful girl I was remains.

I was feeling helpless my last therapy session. I just said, seriously, please, is there something wrong with me? it feels like everyone gets something I don't. I spent my teenage years in therapy, changing schools, learning to socialize and when things were getting genuinely better, well... a certain sickness came around. So here I am. Going three to four days without interacting with anyone my age. Venting to a notebook. Crying to the mirror.

I miss feeling like me, you know? I miss me. So much it hurts.