Remember when I called you crying? And I said I’d had it: fuck the internship, fuck my degree, I’m coming home! You listened and then you told me to keep my head high. You told me I was better than the stupid anxiety, the isolation and the fear.
I had about 3 weeks left when it happened: I had an anxiety attack. You have to understand: I grew up with family and loving friends always around. I was used to sleeping next to and waking up with my sisters.
I collapsed while standing and couldn’t get out of bed for 3 days straight. My throat kept constricting, I couldn’t eat, and I threw up record amounts of pasty grey phlegm. There I was, utterly alone in my springy double bed, sedated with heavy painkillers, drifting in and out of miserable sleep at odd hours of the day.