Seventy two; a welcome feeling.

The anxiety is creeping up again. So is the depression. I'm sitting in class, looking for all the exits even though I know nothing is going to happen.
I'm looking at the clock, fidgeting anxiously waiting for the bell to go so i can go to my next class.
I'm nearly happy to feel this familiar feeling. It's easier this way. Nothing can hurt me, I'm already as low as I can get. I don't know if I even want to be happy. I just crash anyway.
I've been going up and hiding in my room again.
Cowering away. Waiting.
My heart keeps racing.
I can't stand still.
I've been catching myself rocking from foot to foot.
Right now my heart is in my throat.
I've only just gotten out of the shower, gotten my outfit for tomorrow ready, and laid down, nearly ready for bed.
Yet, I'm waiting.
I don't want to go to school. I'm having problems finding motivation.
It's starting so soon.
Why don't I want to be happy?
I can't be helped if I don't want it.
I'm so confused.
Take these feelings away, no, let them stay. I don't know.