Anxiety spread in confessions

In 2017, many things have happened: 

• he cafe where I worked at has been sold and I didn't got along very well with the new bosses. I kind of got fired, kind of got invited to quit, all of that through text messages.
•  Some things with my health weren't at 100% and that made me have to take some injections and in the meantime I've made new tests and the appointment is in almost two weeks. I'm already stressed out with everything, but this is picking on my levels of stress like mad and upset bees.
• In the meantime, with a very bad (and I have to admit, obsessive) time with everything that went wrong and that I got to hear of what my old bosses have been saying about me, I started going to another cafe (isn't it a bit too obvious that I enjoy cafes a lot, both working in one or being a costumer?). There, I came to meet some people of which I didn't like: we've had a not so good past, for many reasons. Some apologised about the past. Others have seen set another level of respect to and about me. Some others, I was acquainted with their faces, until recent "discoveries" of where do I know them.

I believed some people were good and real friends. And I've also believed that some of them were compromised with their honor. It turned out I was very wrong.

Some of the people that I know from the pasts, some recent, others not that recent, are dangerous. I can think of too many things that they could think of doing to me, if they caught me alone, and let me tell you that rape is one of them. I always speak of the possibility of being murdered and people say that I am paranoid. I've also been stalked in the past. And I don't want to go through anything: a possibility of robbery (being robbed, it is), of being spanked, raped, murdered. I'm not sure if this happened in 2017 or in 2016, but walking down the streets, three young kids, two of them black and one white one, stopped me in the street and indirectly threatened me with death - however, I am aware that rape or shady consent was what they were looking for. They were looking to mess up big time! Of those from the all the pasts, I know that some of them have had the idea to rape me in mind, just to punish me because of my sexuality. But I don't speak to anyone. When I do, I'm just a freak and full of paranoïa. 

2017, alongside 2016, made feel loss. The loss of a friend the sea, whom body never showed up. 

2017 made my trust issues much worse. I've been cheated on and I have had such a great and long friendship with some of them.

2017 was the year that I have had my last alcoholic drink. It's not a resolution of any kind, but since I'm no longer working by the nigh time, on a bar environment, it's also also good help.

2017 was the year that I've realised that I may have only one or two real and loyal friends. And was also the year that I have stepped away from some toxic people. People who cannot keep secrets. People who have all virtues, while others are always bad at some point. 

It's way late in the a.m. and I can't stop thinking about the same issues. 

I cannot let go of so many crappy thoughts, winding around my mind.

There's is nothing beautiful about feeling all of this. People are the ones guilty to believe that poetry translates sadness and pain and suicidal tendencies or thought into something beautiful. People read and listen and feel and out those feelings and think about magnifying and glorifying them. People who write, sing, rap, draw about that, people who really feel it deep down, won't be happy with message understood and spread the wrong way. It's painful and it's nothing beautiful at all. It's not something to be ashamed of, but it's FOR SURE NO REASON of pride. 

There is also not a choice to feel sad, depressed, anxious: like one "friend" once said, that we choose to live in constant anxiety. It's not a choice to look at someone or to be in innocent environments and having your mind racing and your heart beating so fast, that it skips a beat or two, because your mind tells you that you're useless and worthless or because you think that aby thing terrible will happen.

It was kind of a choice, kind of (bad) luck getting to know some people, the same way it was a choice that they are no longer part of your life. It's not your choice that those people happen to be dangerous and have very bad minds.

This is a text that was going very well, until now. This is the moment where I confess my tiny level of anxiety,  thinking that I shouldn't publish this, but to keep it on sketches. Some of those stuffs could reach the wrong eyes. They could be dangerous to me.

I think this is about the time to go and leave this text.

Things no longer make sense.

Perhaps this is the time that I should go to bed.