The train roared past the platform at terrifying speed. Blue and pink mist, and then silence. I stood on the platform as it passed, root deliberate to the spot; arms across my chest, breathing hard. Telling myself not to move, to stay still. Not today. I had a school to visit. I was going to school.
My arms were covered. Opaque tights. Smart dress. But inside, the words hurt. Assessment three of three this week. More thorns. More truth. More stigma. Or more to come. Because he told me that I am clingy and I seek reassurance, and I am an emotional wreck, and I fall apart when I’m criticized, and that I find relationships – all relationships – tricky to navigate. I am rubbish at relationships. I am borderline. And avoidant. And paranoid. And possibly other things, too. I make people nervous. I am bad, bad, bad.