For some reason, expressing myself online in an anonymous environment proves simple enough (or at least feasible). However, discussing anything of significance in person is nothing short of embarrassing and shameful -- it has always been as such. Living in this manner is dreadful, yet I can never seem to bring myself to request assistance. My outlook has not changed in the slightest since, but it is a discussion in which even anonymity provides little relief. I detest gazing into any reflection, merely to be met with something that is so incredibly foreign. While in certain medical circumstances, I have been able to reveal a few problems at hand, but I have never been able to reveal anything psychological.

When I was in approximately eighth grade, my mother brought me to a therapist to determine whether or not my grades had declined due to a mental health issue, but only some of the questions I was ever able to answer truthfully. Still, at the time, my problems were rather limited, though I did still possess some of the same thoughts as I do to this current day. It was the only therapist in which I had ever visited, and it was by my mother's will. And since the dilemma has worsened, even medical professionals have proven unsettling. It has been years since I have last visited a medical doctor for any purpose.

Sometimes, I sincerely wish that I could simply relocate elsewhere across the world. Perhaps then I would actually gain the courage to seek advisement. Really, I am not sure which is worse -- the judgement or the pity.