I’m damaged goods

It’s too late for me I’m already damaged goods.  I’m nothing but a concoction of regrets and despair.  My insides are full of darkness.  Wallowing in despair plotting my own demise smiling is my best disguise.  People keep telling me to “keep pushing it gets better” and when it doesn’t they say it again but they never really mean.  I ask them “what for?” and they tell me “because that’s just how life is.  Well I don’t enjoy “life” and I never really have.  Disappointment after disappointment embarrassing moments always feeling uncomfortable.  I guess thats just how it is when you’re a foster child, constantly dealing with people who don’t love you unconditionally, always trying to find “your space” but ultimately invading someone else’s.  All for what for a few happy moments.  The human experience is so finite and honestly not worth it.