"I want to jump!" - The Story, part 2

I started to very slowly heal after March 2016. But my mind was scarred, and I wouldn't do anything if I didn't know exactly when something ended, and that I could take a bus I had beforehand checked up.

I could leave my boyfriends house earlier than I could've because of this. I got horrible panic from not knowing when something ended. I had to decide before visiting a friend when I was going to leave, no matter how fun we have, so I could avoid those panic attacks. 

My mind felt fragile. Like it had escaped death only by a thread, and was now so, so, so tiny. Even a small thing could break it.

In November 2016, one board member asked me if I wanted to be the responsible for the organizations news paper. I said no. They pleaded and begged, and stupid me, agreed. The news paper was due in February 2017.

Hell broke loose. Again. Yes, I could write, and gather stories, but let me fucking tell you, layouting and page breaking a news paper takes time, and is hard. Two other girls did it for me, but they made sure to make me feel like an utter piece of shit. They were the most unpleasent girls I've ever worked with, and hell, did that help my depression? NO! They made it even worse. So, so much worse.

I cried hella lot again. I hated the girls, and I hated that this organization made me feel better off dead and I hated that I was too weak to say no, and I hated that it turned out this way. 

Why wasn't I allowed to be happy in this organization? 

Why was my student life turning into a death trap for me?

It was not suppose to become this way.

I'm too tired to write the rest. So just you wait for part 3.