I feel so absolutely alone even though I’m surrounded by very dear friends. I can’t talk to them about the things that bother me because then they’ll see who I really am; a weirdo, a creep, a monster. I’m all alone and my story of loss and heart break doesn’t matter.
I wish I had died when I attempted suicide twice within two days a few years ago. It seems that my life will only be comprised of me pretending to be happy when on the inside I’m suffering egregiously.
I wish there was something I could do to take away the pain, but there is nothing. Therapy doesn’t help and neither do the many various medications I’ve tried over the past two years. It seems that death is the only solution.
I wish I could be happy.