There are worse things than having behaved foolishly in public.
There are worse things than these miniature betrayals,
committed or endured or suspected; there are worse things
than not being able to sleep for thinking about them.
It is 5 a.m. All the worse things come stalking in
and stand icily about the bed looking worse and worse and worse.
— Fleur Adcock
I found this poem at a low point in my life and found it said all the things I felt, it sums up what no one else sees in person perfectly.