She found it today.
She never knew that people felt the same way that she did.
That she isn't the only one who sabotages herself.
That other people think the same anxious things she does.
She is both comforted and frantic about this fact.
She found out she is sick, but also that what she has been feeling is not her fault.
It's a side effect of extreme anxiety.
The kind she has never been able to explain to anyone.
She knows now that it wasn't her fault she sabotaged her love.
She's frightened to know that most things have been her fault now, because she is sick.
Her mind has been toying with her, telling her lies.
She never knew that what she felt was real, but now she finds comfort in knowing that she isn't crazy for thinking something is wrong with her.
She is mad Alice.
And she's known it all along.

She finally feels as if she understands herself.
Now that she knows the problem.
She knows why she goes to a different world on occasion.
Why she feels so angry so suddenly.
Why she just sits and watches the world move around her but feels so trapped by the monsoon in her head.
She is unable to move.
She fights with her loved ones and then stops herself because she feels crazy.
She feels smallest things the most.
Over thinks the littlest crumb.
She contains the most passion and love, yet also the darkest thoughts one may think.
Stresses things that may not even occur.
She now most of all, understands her mother.
And that is worth this anxiety.
  She is mad Alice.