Where do I begin?

I want to reach out, I really do but I wouldn’t even know where to begin. I am so deeply conflicted. I am so frustrated that I cannot seem to unravel these feelings long enough to really understand them. I must be losing my mind, I can’t concentrate and I take pleasure in absolutely nothing. I hate waking up every day with no interest in a single, solitary activity. There is no song I feel like listening to, no movie I feel like watching, no friend I feel like seeing, no hobby I feel like exploring. I feel as though I can’t survive this self-made abyss even a moment longer.

So I tell myself, reach out, call a friend, call a crisis line. Do SOMETHING that will relieve this pain. But I can’t because I don’t even really know what to say. It’s always been hard for me to talk to people, to share my emotions. I suppose I have always been detached and solitary. I realized that no one knew, not one person in my life could say they really knew what or how I felt regarding ANYTHING.  I tell myself that it doesn’t have to be this way forever. I can get better. I know there are people I can turn to who will listen and not judge. I am not alone. But I feel alone. I can’t bring myself to cry in front of people, to be vulnerable. It’s so easy for some people, so effortless to just share what they are feeling. For me, it feels incredibly unnatural. So when I am faced with the fact that I will never be able to pull myself out of this deep, dark depression unless I do reach out, I become even more depressed.

I hate myself for being so incapable of human interaction. I hate myself for knowing what needs to be done and avoiding it entirely. I hate that there are people who want to be there for me who I just won’t let in. I hate that there is no rational reason to feel the way I do. I hate knowing how many people out there actually are alone, with no one to turn to. Not like me, I have people who actually want to listen to me. The fact that I can’t seem to reach out makes me feel pathetic and sick and guilty. I had a healthy, happy, normal life, with friends and a family who cared about me. I had goals and dreams and aspirations. I had the chance to love someone amazing. Yet here I sit, alone and crying in a room in a city I once affectionately called home. Don’t feel sorry for me, I don’t deserve it. These feelings are completely unjustified. But still, I feel utterly hopeless. Nothing I attempt to do makes me feel better.  Even after having written so much here, I feel as though I have said nothing.  I haven’t even scratched the surface of what’s bothering me. Like I said, I just don’t know where to begin, and that feeling is the most crushing of all.