Stuck.

I've been putting off writing this entry for a week now, because I don't want to face reality.
Last week, the last time I opened a document to start writing it, this was going to be kind of positive, I was going to try to cheer myself up with this. But then I put it off until later.
And now I can't.
I can't write a positive entry.
I want to. But I can't.

I thought that as the days would go by, being back here (even if it isn't the same as before) would get easier until it would feel natural as it did before. That's what I thought last week.
This week I realized it hasn't gotten any easier. Being here just keeps getting harder and harder and it doesn't seem to stop.

I haven't been to a single class this week. Not one. And the fact that there was a strike hasn't helped for the rest of the days.
I've barely left the house. I get all panicky even if I'm just going to the supermarket. It feels like a mountain just going there, I come back exhausted - even if I'm out for less than twenty minutes.
My sleep schedule has gone crazy again. Either I don't get any sleep, or I sleep day and night with no stop. But it's a restless sleep.
I'm jumpy. Every noise makes me jump or make my hands/arms/legs spasm.
The only thing that comforts me is eating soup, and I've been having food cravings that I try not to fall in because I want to keep my "diet" (I'm not on one, I just think that's the right word) as similar as it was in Germany.
I've felt the push towards smoking again, and I have caved in, even if I smoke just one cigarette a day. I've fallen.
I don't feel safe. I'm shaking most of the time. Sometimes I'm calm here, in my apartment, but then I start feeling... yeah, unsafe. Uncomfortable. And it's not because of my roommates, I really like them and I've been spending a lot of time with one of them.
I don't talk to anyone. No one knows if there's something going on with me - which is completely different from years ago. I used to just share my feelings so openly. Now no one can rip them off of me. And I want to share them with someone (though at the same time I don't want to have to talk so much), because it's come to a point that I think I might need help, but no one takes me seriously because 1) I have been in this state (though never this low) for years now and they just know me this way and 2) I'm not saying "oh, I have horrible anxiety" all the fucking time like some people do, and though it might actually help and get someone's attention, I don't want to do it.
My mom doesn't take me seriously, it's like she doesn't care or she doesn't want to see it, even if I talked to her on Skype the other night and she saw how big/deep/dark the circles under my eyes have gotten and how tired I looked, she just brushed it off. I don't feel comfortable anymore talking to her about things like this, because years ago she basically told me that I was being stupid.
The good thing is that I don't cry, at least not for me. Of course, I still cry with books and movies, but never because I hurt so much.

But I feel like I need help now. I need either someone or something to get me out of bed every morning and just motivate (?) me to go to uni and, not even that, just live.

Everything feels like such a big effort for which I don't have enough strength. And then because I don't do it, my conscience punishes me 24/7 and I'm shaking and my heartbeat goes crazy.

I'm keeping myself from crawling to the end of my bed and hide in the little space there. I feel like if I go there, I won't be getting out any time soon.

I've had lows, really, really deep lows, but right now I feel at my lowest.

I have to do something this time, I can't be like this forever. Because that forever feels terribly short this way.