So this week has been going straightly downhill and my anxiety's eating me to the bones. 

Awhile ago was the last straw. 

So here I was trying to cheer myself up with random things like twitter, fb, aff, manga, and dramas.

Then I decided to list down prompts that came into my head.

Then I remembered this novel that was given to me by my friend and that book is really very precious.

It's Jo Nesbo's work for goodness' sake.

Then I started panicking, I tried to search every corner of our house for the book and I'm really scared because it's not in the book shelf where I last placed it a year ago (the last time I touched it). Then I remembered seeing it in my brother's room then I ask him then he timidly answered 'no' and I'm really on the verge of breaking down by that time then I immediately started looking for it again, then I remembered that my sister got books to give for her org by the end of 2015. I tried to shrug it off and I'm feeling really bad because I don't wanna accuse my siblings (yet here I am) of that when they fully know how attached I could get to my books and my condition. So I looked again, only to find out that another book of mine which was also a gift is also missing and then I cried. I'm like, really guys, you could have just asked if you want to give it or whatsoever, and out of all the books why does it have to be the ones that was given to me as a gift. I'm sentimental as and I really treasure other people's gifts to me so I was really affronted and upset and angry. I frantically searched again, by this time my mind's already ticking and it's urging me to look and look and look and look. Then my brother asked me about why I was looking for it, I couldn't answer him straight heck I couldn't even think straight so I just said no (which doesn't make sense). 

What broke me more was how angry my mom and dad were beause of how frantic I was JUST to look for those books. They said "just books" and I got really sad because I couldn't tell them of my condition so whenever they think I'm doing petty things just because I'm being irratiional it makes me sad. You all could have said that I should tell them about this problem of mine but because of our financial and societal background, they don't really buy those kind of stories and dismiss them as a sign of immaturity Plus, I couldn't get any psychological help because our country DOES NOT even care to RAISE AWARENESS about MENTAL DISORDERS. So I just kept mum. They could have been correct but I know for a fact that one reason I became so sentimental was because I didn''t really grew up in a friendly environment and holding on to small tokens of sincerity and care is my only way to relieve myself of sadness and loneliness. 

I can;t help it and now I'm writing this because I need to let it all out or else my mind won't stop bugging me later. Just to let you all know I don't get any sleep when I forget something that randomly occured to me that I can't remember on the spot. It's like I have to know no matter what. This has been a long post and probably no one would even dare to read this till the end but that's okay. I'm okay. At least I'm trying to be. And I hope that someday I could confess all of this to my parents. And I hope that one of my siblings would grow a pair and tell me if they have any idea what happened to those books.