Dear Diary

I’ve been avoiding writing anything that sounds like a diary entry for a while now (I hate the sound of it).

Everyone thinks that I am having the best time of my life. I am happier than Korea, yes. I persist to call Korea The Hole. I am happy… I’m just… not? What would the adjective be for someone that feels happier and looks happier and sounds happier, doesn’t feel sad or depressed but is?

What do you call someone who has been put right in the centre of their ultimate fear? Every day, I am surrounded by people. People are moving fast, they aren’t stopping, they aren’t talking. They’re moving, in large groups and in small spaces, from A to B. I have to close my eyes or avoid looking at faces as not to hyperventilate and to try and meander my way onto a train that is so crowded that I have to wait for two or three more to come by in order to get on.

I still believe that life is punishing me for never taking transport to visit my friends in Korea merely because the planning of it all made me too anxious.

Where do all of these people come from?

I haven’t gotten black-out drunk since I’ve arrived in England. I haven’t used sex as a tool to be wanted since I arrived in England. The two things that cause my happiness and depression. Is that why I feel neither?

I am considering AA, not because I am addicted to alcohol but I am addicted to the stamina and ability it gives me to get affection and love in any form. Is that the same thing? Am I then addicted to alcohol?

I’m counting the weeks – 1,2,3,4 until I can get away from here. I sat down on the black and white checked bathroom floor ten minutes after I should have left for work and I cried and breathed deeply and quickly. The day prior, tears were starting to form whilst being pushed up against the side of a subway door. Why do I think that I am the only person who is struggling in this fast-paced human infested small space? I don’t feel normal.

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