Melodramatic probably

I thought maybe I was cured.  Yes, I had lapses of joy and life and days that endlessly sucked, but I thought maybe the worst was behind me.  I started to refer to myself (in secret) as someone who used to cut, who used to be depressed. I started to become comfortable with my body at the place I dance, even exposing my hundreds of scars. But then the dance year ended and everything hit me in an inescapable wave again. I am tired of fucking change. The people I trust, the ways I have grown in the dance place, all of that is gone now because I’m leaving it forever. I crave stability, and it’s the one thing that always escapes me.  My chest physically hurts and I can’t stop crying. I’m going to cut myself soon I can’t help it. Thinking about going to college this fall (the one my parents wanted me to go to) fills me with dread and literally no excitement. I won’t really be able to dance there-the one thing that gives me positive body image, and fills me with life and hope. Sorry for rambling