Everyone has fears, maybe spiders or heights or maybe social situations. But truly deep down, what causes us to panic.
I panic about a lot of things. I panic when people have high expectations of me, and when I’m pretending to be confident. I’m afraid that the world won’t deliver a life for me that I’ve imagined so many times, and that I’ll let someone down. I stress that I’m not good enough for anything, and that I can’t survive on my own. And that I’ll achieve nothing in my life. Maybe the people I love will see through the fake smiles and facade and hate who they find, I know I do. Most of all, I panic to the extent of collapsing on my bed crying that I won’t make it past 18, and that my life will never truly begin.
I fear everyday that I need professional help, but I don’t want to alarm anyone about it, because I know, deep down, that if I seek out therapy they’ll find out just how messed up I am, and they’ll suffocate me before I can even take my own life.