I feel so alone. And sad. And scared. And I have no hope of any of that changing. I don’t know why I keep doing this to myself. Maybe on some level I enjoy being miserable. Maybe I’m addicted to hopelessness. Maybe it’s my survival instinct, refusing to accept that it would be better to end it. Perhaps I’m more afraid of death than I am of the pain of life.
So I won’t do what seems like the logical choice. I won’t end it. But I don’t know how to live with this feeling. I don’t know how to find meaning in a world where you’re spiritually, emotionally alone, for the rest of your life. The world is still beautiful, the sky is still blue, but it all seems kind of hollow without other people.