I hate this. I feel alone and afraid and on edge. It makes me want to be with people and avoid everyone. I hate staying home. I hate going out. I seek distractions, but when those run out I get sucked down again almost immediately.

I can see the fractures in everything. There is no aspect of my life that isn’t exceedingly fragile.

I don’t know how to ask for help because everything hurts in some way. I cry. It doesn’t help. I try to ignore it, I get panic attacks.

I just got home from Chicago and CONvergence. The con was great. I was able to catch up with people who are very dear to me.

But there was another voice running in the background: give up. You are not a part of this community anymore.

In Chicago I didn’t tell anyone I was coming home except my family. I couldn’t do it. I just wanted to read. And I did. I read five books in a week, which is excessive even for me.

And when I came back home to San Diego, it finally hit me that I’m never going to see or talk to my dad ever again. He didn’t want me to come see him while I was in town (he hasn’t been answering messages from me or my mom), so I figured that would be that.

But it’s just hitting me harder now.

I am not okay and I don’t know how to fix this.