'No, this room is too small'

The walls are getting narrower and narrower, closing in on me. I feel trapped by this illness. I'm lost without my energy and paranoid by the lack of substance. I don't know what to do.

'Should I go home still sober,
Or should I buy me another glass of wine,
And forget about time?
But my jeans are too tight'

In the matter of a few weeks I feel like I've lost the will to be what I've always aspired to be. I used to think If my mind was set like Patsy Stone's I would reach whatever I wanted to.

'Darling, if you want to talk bollocks and discover the meaning of life, you're better off downing a bottle of whiskey. Atleast that way, you're unconscious by the time you start to take yourself seriously'

But my wine glass is empty, and has been since I stopped refilling it. The days are all the same, and there i no time to change anything. At times I'm happy in this bubble, but for most of the time I feel trapped. I want to dance the night away, knowing that there are no worries, knowing that there is nobody to go back to, knowing that there is no to do- list lingering for the coming day. I hate limitations, I just want to be free. Following Thucydides I just need to be courageous: 'The secret of happiness is freedom. The secret of freedom is courage'. Taking that step over the cliff...indulging in dauntlessness... it will literally leave me stripped to the bones. I've incorporated it to who I am for so many years. Sometimes more distant, sometimes closer than my best friend.

The last few day of being ill has left me doubting everything I do. Why I'm waisting time and money at Uni, when its not what I want to do. Why I even try to be clever, when I'm not academically smart. I don't know who or what I am anymore. Looking back, the number and complexity of identities I've had over the years have left me an empty shell. Everything has been a constant battle of conflict and i never really stopped to do what I want. I never turned around to say no.