So I woke up to the smell of gas in my house, and it turned out the pipe had ruptured and fallen off the stove and because we NEVER turn the gas off, like idiots, it was leaking. Horribly. Like the whole place was stinking up.

Fortunately nothing happened - I had someone come up and unplug the gas and turn it off - these being skills I don't have despite having lived on my own (so to speak) for two years... or I DID learn them, but I was too scared to touch the thing. So ... I let someone else do it and stood outside the house like a coward and waited. Called the boyfriend whose house is officially is, who isn't talking to me, and he told me to open the windows and whatnot and leave for a while. So I did, and now I'm at a coffee shop, eating a hell of a lot of whipped cream and freaking the F out.

I can feel the anxiety building. I'm scared. This is ... reminniscent of living alone in a horrible city where help was not closely available (where my panic attacks started). And I don't... know what to do. But thought I'd write it here.

._____.

I think I'm a baby. Like a 26 year old baby who can't handle herself. >< Christ.