Life is hard and sucks balls.
But seriously, haven’t been doing so hot lately. The futility of all actions seems incredibly apparent. There’s no reason or rhyme to a lot sometimes. I feel like I have no real future, I have no plans, I have nothing.
I’m the weird kid that everyone sort of likes, but no one takes very seriously. Everyone seems to be aware of my idiotic day-to-day slip-ups. I can’t help it if I have difficulties speaking to people. I’m terrified of other people most of the time. It’s hard for me to open up. I can’t help that sometimes very basic things are incredibly difficult for me. I have difficulty forming words sometimes. I walk around looking incredibly awkward most of the time.
And I hate it. I hate a lot of things about who I am. I hate being a walking bag of neurotic emotions. I hate being miserable and negative all the time, and I’m tired of faking being an optimist in a futile attempt to fool myself into feeling better.
I’m a fucking weirdo. I understand this. I cannot help the conditions in which I was brought up, and most of you will be able to comprehend what this last sentence even means. I’m seriously so sick of hurting from everything all of the time, and I’m sick of not being able to take my mind off of how I feel anymore. Do you know what it’s like, knowing there’s something horribly, horribly wrong with you, and you can’t tell anybody because of how those people would see you based on this new piece of information?
It just goes to show you that I am unsuitable for most people. I’m damaged goods. And as long as this feeling goes on, I’m going to crawl into my own shell and avoid talking to anyone. It’s better this way. You can stop pretending to be interested, and pretending to give a shit.