I am lonely.
Mostly on days like today. I feel so completely alone though I am surrounded by so many people. So many people who might care, if I told them that is. But the thing is, even though I am surrounded by caring people, none of them notice.
Some days I get asked a simple question, “Are you okay?” and I know that I should quit lying. I should stop pasting on a smile and giving them some bullshit answer such as “I’m fine,” or on days I can barely muster that smile, “I’m just tired,”. As if lying to everyone around me will somehow change the fact that I’m not. I’m not fine and I don’t even know why.
I am unhappy.
I don’t even know if that’s the word for it. It’s less like sadness and more like numbness. I’ve somehow managed to block out all feelings. Somehow throughout my crazy life, I’ve managed to get rid of my sadness and pain. But without the pain and sadness, you can’t happiness and I’ve sacrificed that as well. If you want to get rid of one, you have to be willing to sacrifice them all.
And I’ve lived the majority of my life being indifferent. It’s kind of turned me into a *****.
I am ungrateful.
I seem to loath people. I am very sarcastic and it is never nice. I have heard many profanities thrown my way and I simply accept them. I sometimes give off an aura of not caring, but that’s who I’ve become. I’ve become socially inept and spiteful. I cannot seem to sympathize with others and even my apologies are coated in sarcasm. Somewhere in the back of my mind I can hear the little voice that tells me it isn’t okay to behave the way I do. I know it’s not okay to hate people I don’t even know. It’s not okay to hurt the ones around me and not care the least bit. It’s not okay and I know that.
But that same little voice that tells me those things are not okay, remind me of all the reasons I am so indifferent. I reminds me of all the reasons I hate myself and the people who made me this way.
I am worthless.
That’s what I’ve come to believe. That’s what the voice tells me every time I screw up, and trust me it happens often. I have come to terms with the fact that I can’t do anything right. Hell, I can barely walk without falling over. I am possibly the clumsiest human being that has ever existed and I have accepted that. But I still manage to convince myself that today will be different. I will not screw up today and the moment I do, the voice is there again to remind me that it was right all along. Maybe I’m so indifferent to the hate I receive so often from the people I used to care about because they cannot hate me more than already hate myself.
But who could love themselves when they know they’re nothing but the empty shell of a screw up?
I am hopeless.
I don’t know whether this is depression. It doesn’t feel like it, but I’m no expert. I’ve researched and I don’t think I am depressed. Though, I do want to disappear. I don’t think that’s the same as wanting to die. I just want to fall asleep and never wake up. I want to fade away along with all traces of me that prove my existence. I won’t commit suicide. I don’t want someone to find my lifeless body. Though if I knew that if got into a car and I would die in it, I would get in. I don’t want my family and friends to blame themselves, because they would. That’s what people do when others die, I don’t think I can stop that. But anytime I even think of grabbing a bunch of pills or even taking a blade to my wrists, I suddenly feel incredibly selfish. I somehow convince myself that killing myself is a far worse thing to do than to continually suffer in my self-made prison of a body. I can’t even bring myself to self-harm in any form. There is always a sudden guilt that stops me. The guilt that convinces me that disappointing the people in my life is worse than my suffering. Maybe I am beginning to care.
Maybe my screwed up self is trying to make me care by forcing me to continue to live in the hell I’ve created for myself. I don’t know.
The only thing I am sure of is that I am broken.