Everything seemed to rapidly go downhill from there. Mum organised me a therapist, that's something that should've helped. But it didn't. I didn't want help. I wanted to fix it myself and not burden anyone with my stupid problems. I haven't even told Tex about this yet. Every time I open my mouth to it feels like I'm being choked. Nothing comes out. No matter how hard I try. This led to me sitting on the floor of the bathroom, my knees pulled up to my chest. I sat there thinking. Overthinking. I tend to do that a lot. By 3am my eyes were bloodshot, cheeks red and stained with tears. Was I really going to keep doing this? Crying about a mental illness that makes me be anxious? It's honestly pathetic. I don't even know what I'm worried about anymore.
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Mentally Sick
General FictionI wrote this story for an English assessment, and I really like the characters at the moment. So, I'm planning on making a proper novel sorta for this! !disclaimer! -Both characters in this story are my own. -Casper uses They/them. Tex uses He/Him...
