I thought I got better, but I didn’t. I think I just had something to distract myself from it. Now it’s resurfaced. I feel horrible. Nothing feels real anymore and nothing brings me comfort, not even my cat who I love more than anything. All of my happiness is gone a moment later and gives way to emptiness. I’m not quite sure that I’m real, or maybe everything around me isn’t real. I don’t love anything anymore. Everything I create feels soulless and empty. Everything I cook makes me sick even though everyone loves my cooking. I struggle to sleep at night. It’s so hard to breathe. I want to run away but even then I don’t think I’ll be free, will I? Not even burning myself makes me feel alive anymore. I don’t foresee a future where I ever get better. I’ve been so angry lately that I have trouble controlling it, which is weird for me. I’m usually excellent at handling my anger. I’m not even an adult yet. Why do I have to go through this? Why do I still have to live with my abuser? Why me