Rant.

I hate having the constant war in my head of whether I should even get out of bed every day. I hate having those spurts where I don’t want to eat for weeks but I force myself to anyway even though I’m not remotely hungry. I hate being so beyond paranoid that I’m going to wake up one day and not find my boyfriend sleeping/laying next to me. I hate feeling like there’s pretty much no point to existence because I’m never going to accomplish anything. I hate the fact that my anxiety makes me hate my job. I hate feeling like no matter how hard I try, I never do anything right.