what happened?

as I sat in the passenger seat of princes car that night, barely listening to him lecture me on the right thing to do, I asked myself a question I wouldn't be able to answer. I knew I wouldn't be able to answer it. everyday I questioned myself and came up empty. but princes next harsh words snapped me back into reality. "I should beat your ass for even picking up the phone," he slurred drunkenly. "you have a girlfriend." he told me, and he was right, but part of me knew I'd always pick up the phone. I admired prince for being past this point in his life, the not ever knowing what to do part. my anxiety had risen steadily over the course of that night, peaking when you called, and returning to climax as I worried about where you were or if you were safe. prince was drunk. but I wasn't going to object to him driving. part of me wished he would crash, and let me rest. I felt exhausted, and not just because of the beer. I was drained and I no longer had answers for my own psyche about what to do next. I wasn't talking to my best friend, ignoring his text messages in favor of brushing it off so I wouldn't have to deal with the anxiety and guilt. I thought back to a year prior, february, 2015. I went through everyday not knowing what anxiety felt like, eating normal meals and sleeping normal nights. I didn't want to die. I was afraid to die then. I had love to give and love to receive. a year later and I had nothing left to give, feeling like I had already given it my all but life was demanding so much extra. i pushed my back as I leaned over my bathroom sink, breathing heavily, I again asked myself the same question. my shirtless chest heaving, my rib cage protruding from my body like a god damned skeleton. a shell of what I was. who I was. looking in the mirror I realized this is what I am and all I'll ever be. I looked in the mirror, not seeing the same face that smiled in pictures for Valentine's Day 2015, and I was terrified of what I'd see in another year. I didn't want to see another year. I felt like I was finished. i am finished. the truth is I'm scared, and I don't know what to do. I want to go home. I just want to go home. but I can't right now. instead I stare into the sunset, admiring the pink fuzz, wondering what the fuck happened.