Waste of space.

Going on here, I know I would never be able to commit suicide. I’m too much of a wimp to do it, and would only be able to do so purely on impulse depending on my mood and surroundings. But I still have suicidal thoughts. I don’t know why I’m here or what my purpose is for being here. I don’t belong anywhere. Ever since I was a child, I’ve felt like an outcast. I’ve never had a clique of friends I truly belonged to, and if there was, I wasn’t important enough to be invited to hang out, I was more the person they complained to about problems. Even in my family, I feel like I don’t belong. Everyone else gets along and laughs, and then there’s me who’s like a total stranger. My parents were never really good with showing affection, but now what I hate is that I’m the same. I don’t know how to express emotions. I’m tired of keeping everything bottled up and being treated like a doll. As if I’m supposed to smile no matter what people do with me like a Barbie doll without feelings. I just want to be cared about and be significant. Instead I’m a nobody, just a stepping stone for people who need to complain or vent about their own problems. How is it possible that I care so much about others and yet, no one truly cares about me? How is that right? I wonder if this is what it feels like to be a ghost.