It’s so hard just getting through each day without self-destructing. Let alone making enough to support myself. I don’t think I have it in me. This world is too complicated to deal with when all you want is to curl up in a ball. People want you to jump through too many damned hoops.
I tell myself that I should try. That I care about my parents and sister and the pain they would feel if I stopped. That’s true – I hate to think of them going through that. But I rarely actually feel that sense of caring.
I don’t really care about anything real. I only feel strongly about the fantasy lives that I can’t live.
I am utterly alone. Emotionally alone. Psychologically alone. Morally alone. So alone I can’t even imagine not feeling this way. I don’t talk to anyone, and when I do it’s superficial. No one sees me, and if they did see me they couldn’t relate.
I have to find some way to go on, but I have nothing to live for. I have no hope, no meaning. It’s not for anything. It’s just so the lives of others don’t get ruined. People who I rarely see, and who I can’t ever let see me.
I do care, somewhere deep inside. They gave so much to make me happy as a kid. But I don’t feel that, day in and day out. I don’t feel the gratitude. All I feel is exhausted, and sad, and alone, and sick of this world.