“I just don’t trust any of it. Every time I read something about how there’s been another ridiculous climb of the Dow Jones, there’s a part of me that goes, “This can’t be good.” None of this is real money. You know what I mean? It’s not like there’s actually more of anything. It’s just ideas. When people are getting richer and richer but they’re not actually producing anything, it can’t end well.” 


                                                                                        – Louis C.K.



I don’t know what it’s feels like to actually feel raw emotion anymore. Reading through posts on “Gives Me Hope,” I’ve come to realize that I was that friend for everyone who offered to do the saving, but no one ever wanted to save me.


My anxiety doesn’t like the light. Or shirts. Only sports bras. Don’t even think about tight clothes, my anxiety says i’m way too fat for those anymore. My anxiety says i’ll never be thin enough, and it always happens to point out my flaws, or my short comings. My anxiety says that it’s always right and I have to do as it says.