I’ve made connection impossible for myself, through my actions, and what I’ve become. But large parts of me don’t realize. They go on longing for something that’s hard to define. The ability to relax and be myself around someone. Intimacy. To truly care for someone other than myself. To be known, understood, accepted, loved, as I truly am. To be ok with another person. To be acceptable.
But I’m not acceptable. And I never can be, regardless of what I do from here.
So I’m continuing to live because I’m afraid of dying. But my mind is driving me crazy, desperately grasping out for any way to make a real connection, when it’s just not possible. A real life is not possible. I live a twisted kind of shadow life. Still, I can’t say I don’t deserve this.