Anxiety is running high lately. I am sick of being sick and stressed. I feel the creepy depression fairy knocking at my door and the bug spray is only getting me so far. My addiction to food and pity parties are growing stronger to try and cope, which only makes it worse. My only safe space to vent right now is through photoshop and journaling, a place where only I know the meanings of things that are there, even if they are burried under layers.