These things I confess:
In the fall when things were getting really bad, the only thing that stopped me from starting to drink heavily was the fear that if I got really drunk, I'd have the courage I didn't have when sober to attempt suicide.
These days, when I'm going down flights of stairs, I have to pause at the top of them, to prevent that tiny part of me from throwing myself down the stairs.
I tell each person I know just one secret of mine, because if I come close to telling someone all my secrets they'll leave me and I need to get them out.
When I occasionally stop being shy and get explosively angry for no reason, it's not because of anything anyone's done; it's because I'm angry at myself for being jealous of other people's happiness. It's bad. I know. I'm sorry.
I worry about my recent loss of most emotions. I know I should feel sympathetic or hopeful or disheartened at some times, but my only emotions right now are null, anger, desperate loneliness, and mysterious untargeted fear.