I have more anxiety issues than I know what to do with this month. Lately, I've been thinking a lot about whether it's worthwhile to maintain the only friendship I have. Not without reason, of course.

I sometimes stay at my friend's house as a micro-vacation from the depressing life I live during the weekdays. My friend is a kindly benefactor and allows me to sleep on his couch, which is slightly less miserable for me than sleeping in my childhood bedroom at my father's house. However, for the last several months, it has become commonplace for me, upon arriving at my friend's house, to immediately initiate a neurotic cleaning spree of his filthy living room, and to sanitise his couch (he has twin boys and my friend and his wife have essentially given up trying to maintain an environment anywhere near what I might consider habitable). Today, I spent a total of two hours organising, picking up uneaten food, and vacuuming both the carpet, and the couch upon which I should currently be sleeping. I can't sleep tonight because I have too much on my mind. I'm getting into a bad routine by coming here to escape being at my dad's house. I feel like a teenager again, hiding out from the unending chaos of my home-life, which is still just as unending today as it was when I was a teenager. I can't stand it there, but I can't stand feeling like I'm being a burden on the only friend I have, either. Jeeze, I'm just full of rationality these days. Just to clarify: my friend, I think, brings me here just so I will clean his living room. And because I don't always beat him at billiards. Just some of the time. Also because he knows I'm going out of my mind at my dad's house, and he's a considerate friend.

Oh, I'm sure this is a perfectly healthy relationship. Still, how can anyone but my cats put up with me? I wouldn't be able to do it, honestly.