ShatteredStarlight45

I’m friendly, I smile, I act interested in and welcoming towards people. I ask them questions about themselves, laugh at their jokes, agree with them, just generally try to be pleasant to be around.

I try to be extroverted and zany and funny, since that’s what people seem to like and respond well to, but it never, ever lands; people just look at me weird, then go back to what they were doing like I never spoke.

If I’m my quiet, introverted actual self, people quite literally don’t notice me, let alone talk to me or include me or invite me to things. It’s like I’m invisible; there’s been times I’ve spoken and the people around me have had such a non-reaction I started to wonder if I’d spoken out loud or just in my head.

I just have no idea what I’m doing wrong, or what else I can try to make myself attractive to people socially. I feel like everyone got “how to socialise” classes in school that I somehow missed. I’m 25 for God’s sake, I shouldn’t be this useless at socialising, let alone dating. I wouldn’t even care if it didn’t make me so damn lonely. What kind of sick cosmic joke is that? “Make it a human with zero social skills, but also make it get crippling depression from being alone all the time.”

My bio family are assholes, and the friends I do have are wrapped up in their own lives/have their own problems and understandably don’t have much time for me. I just want to feel like someone values me, like someone would pick me out of a line-up and say “Her”. Doesn’t even need to be romantic, I just want someone to look at me and see something that matters. Am I really that ugly and boring and quiet that not one single person wants to be with me for me?

I feel like I’m not meant to have friends or a partner or a family, like I’m not meant to be here. I’ve never fit in anywhere, and I’m so useless at things that other people find easy I’m honestly starting to think it was a mistake I was ever born. I contribute nothing useful to the world that I can feel proud of, and if nobody even notices I’m here let alone cares, I don’t see why I should bother anymore. The world would be better off without me.

The kind of bone-deep exhausted that all the sleep in the world won’t fix.

I have no-one who knows me who cares about me – nobody I could call with a [redacted] in my hand and say “I’m tired and hurting and scared, I’ve fucked everything up and I’m useless and I wanna die but I don’t, please come help me”, and they would. Nobody that would just come over, and take the [redacted] out my hand, and hug me, tell me they love me and I matter to them and they don’t want me to die. I don’t even know if people like that exist for anyone. I’m guessing probably not; either that or I’m just super-unlucky.

I’ve felt crushingly alone my whole damn life no matter how many friends I’ve made and lost, with the exception of one friend back in high school, and I guess to some extent my counsellor back in college. My bio family has never given a crap about me beyond what I do for them. What’s the point, if nobody gives a fuck about you? How/why are you supposed to care about yourself if no-one else does?! Music, movies, books and games were how I got this far: I would lose myself in songs and stories where people had family and friends who actually loved and cared for each other, and try and draw comfort from that.

But now I can’t write, which has always been the only thing I’ve ever had to hold onto when things got really bad, and I am so tired. My writing was the best comfort I had against the loneliness, and not being able to access that has sucked all the light and hope from the world worse than the worst thing I’ve experienced to date. I literally didn’t know I could feel this depressed before I lost it. I’m too damn listless to even make the effort to kill myself.

Literally the only reason I’m still here, writing this, is because I have some tiny, ridiculous, utterly blind faith that I might be able to write again someday. So long as I’m still breathing, I might be able to get it back somehow. And I owe it enough, I love it enough, to try, even if I don’t love myself.

It isn’t much, and life still hurts like fuck, but for this one thing, if I can just get it back somehow, I’ll bear the pain of being here til I die of old age, because my writing matters that damn much to me.

So yeah. Keeping plodding on, one day, one hour, one minute at a time. Hopefully things might get better. Guess I’ll just have to wait and see what happens. Breathing in, and breathing out.

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ShatteredStarlight45

Don’t know what I’m doing wrong

So, so tired