She's a Fleeting Fox

I feel like I only come here when I need to get something off my chest, or prevent myself from having an anxiety attack...or something of the sort. I can't do homework anymore because all I think about is you. I can't stop thinking. I tell you that, I tell as many people as I can possibly tell (which isn't many) and nobody understands. I'm saying "you" as if I'm talking to Mike. That was all I did when I was dating Vincent. Like this blog was for him, though he never saw it...at least to my knowledge. Sometimes I hope Mike sees this blog...some day. Maybe. And maybe he'll realize how messed up I truly am.

But yeah..I can't stop thinking. My mind constantly races and there are some moments I break down and cry and I can't do anything for a good few minutes except sit there and wait until it's over. You hate seeing me cry. You think it's because of you but it's not...it's just me. Honestly, it's just me. I don't know why I'm exactly the way I am, but I've become this...person. Who cries, panics, cries, thinks, wonders, ponders, worries, worries, worries, worries, cries, worries, cries, cries, cries. And lays there....trying to convince myself that nothing is going on. Nothing's wrong. Is there something going on?

Honestly, I know every time I ask you "who texted you?" that you could easily lie to me. I hope you don't. But...you might.