I send you an email. It's very short. I'm scared to write more. To write what I write on here.
You will hate me when you read the email. I'm so sorry for wasting your time.
I'm such a mess. I'm in the train back home. I'm trying not to cry. I'm such a mess. I don't know what to do anymore. I know not showing up to therapy isn't a good move. But I'm so anxious. I let my anxiety lead. I have felt this anxiety for weeks. Maybe months. I should have talken to you about it. Instead I kept it for myself and let it grow. Until I gave in.
I shouldn't be alive. I make the same mistakes every time. I never learn. I'm worthless.
And now I run away from the only person who might be able to help me: you.

I'm so sorry.