may I be excused?

Today the pain is content to settle as a pit of dread and general sickness in my stomach. It doesnt stab me like usual but rather prods constantly at my innards whispering in the back of my consciousness "you will not enjoy anything today." These past few days have been my worst nightmares coming true. Regrettably, my life is in ruins. My clothes need washing. I am a few days behind in my class reading. And I cannot even sleep right any more, which prior to last night was my only real comfort.

I know that I should be able to believe the things everybody says. The majority must be right. However, in my infinite insecurity I imagine elaborate plots you all are in on. "We will all tell her things are okay" you agree "and then when she ends up alone and miserable and outcast from society we will kill her in the night and take all her stuff and be done with her whining for good."

Oh what great lengths my fine little mind will go to in order to assure me I am not loved.