More & more every day I find myself thinking about my own death.

This is something I haven’t told people. This is something new. Very new. I don’t know how to handle what I’m feeling.. It’s becoming more frequent & uncontrollable. I’m not talking suicide, no, this fear isn’t something that’s within my own control.. this is, well… death. Accidental, murderous.. call it what you will..

I find myself looking twice a everyone I see. Wondering if they are going to do something to hurt me. Tensing at every other car on the road. Where I used to love when my dad would speed up the car on an empty road…I now have to pop a pill to help me calm the fuck down. Most nights I have nightmares about planes & my flight back to America. I’m so terrified that I’m not going to make it.

I think a lot about whether I’ll be one of these people who die too young.. It’s moving from thinking about when, to how.. & I’m so scared.

I don’t know how to convey my fear in words..

My heart is pounding writing this.

Every little thing I do, I wonder if it will contribute to how & when I’ll die.

What if I didn’t put the lid of the pen back on or what if I use the blue instead of my usual black ink? What if I leave my glass on the drying rack or what if I dry it now & put it away in the cupboard. Now, you can’t tell me that’s not fucking crazy, right?! I mean, these things are minuscule, irrelevant, ridiculous… but I can’t stop them, I can’t stop the panic & the confusion.

I’m going insane. I really am. Fuck, it’s so real to me though & it really is something I’m struggling to manage. Is this a cry for help? Yes.. it is.