I googled suicide loneliness

I googled “suicide loneliness” and came across this web site. I scrolled across the page, read three stories-one of hope, one of struggle, one of demise. Something in me twinged, felt the urge to create an account, write this…whatever this is. And the worst part about it is that I have a test tomorrow that I should be studying for right now. Guess that’s the point of this message though. To explain why when having every reason in the world not to feel lonely or suicidal, I still do.

There’s tons of different reasons for loneliness. Some of us suffer from mental illness, some of us just aren’t understood or accepted as what society deems acceptable, and, in my case, some of us pushed away away people from our pasts or avoid new opportunities. Because we massively f-d up in the past and ruined relationships that mattered most. Or can’t stand people saying they know what we’ve been through. Or worse, pretend like we’re just like them. Because we look just like them. Do our hair and makeup every day. Get through school and work like them. Go to their same parties.  I don’t know why I do it. I was diagnosed with depression a few years ago. Depression is real. It hurts many people. And some people get helped by therapy. But for me, it didn’t fix what I felt. A deep, black hole filled sometimes with regret. Disgust. Disdain. Or nothing. For me, feeling nothing  is worse than feeling pain. It’s empty. It’s lonely. And for years I have tried to keep tricking myself and others around me into believing I’m happy. Or that I have a one in a million shot in the dark at being happy after everything. That I feel emotion. Positive emotions, of course. For their own happiness. So they don’t have to frantically fret about asking what’s wrong, or for me to explain how I feel nothing but lonely in a crowd of people I’ve known forever and it’s sickening me and I want it to get better or all just come to an end. It’s hard to tell people you just want it all to end when they don’t understand what it’s like to be so lonely. That’s why I’m here. Writing a random note to an ether space explaining why I feel so empty. And I’m not sure how to make it better.