Most stories start when the main character’s life falls apart. Not this one. My life is great. It’s me who’s falling apart. Most main characters have a special spark. I’m a whole dumpster fire. This is the story of a girl who doesn't know anything about anything trying to do everything.

I feel pathetic, sitting on the garage floor and sobbing uncontrollably. I don’t know what’s happening. My dramatic mind keeps wondering if this is an anxiety attack or a mental breakdown. My rational side insists that it isn’t. But I’m scared. Like, really scared. My head is pounding, but it’s more pressure than an actual headache. The world is shaking.

My breath sounds like an ocean in my ears. There are about sixteen coded monologues crossing paths in my head. I can’t distinguish one from another, but they all have the same general tone. Why can't I handle simple things? Why am I freaking out like this over nothing? Do I always have to be so