I’m only sixteen, but……… I’m afraid I’ll never experience love. Of any kind. Ever.
I’ve been depressed for years. I act okay. And I’m great at acting, but…I’m not. Every day I wake up, and I just want to cry. Because I think to myself “Why, God? Why am I still alive? Why am I forced to face another day of complete loneliness and depression?” They think just because I don’t have anything wrong with me, I’m fine. That just because I don’t cut myself, I don’t think about killing myself. That I don’t think of just jumping out of a moving car on the freeway. Of poisoning myself. Of overdosing on anything. They think just because I don’t throw up I don’t hate myself. That just because I don’t starve myself I don’t hate myself.
I do. I’m disgusted with myself. I want to do it. But I’m a wimp. And a coward. I hate myself for that, too.
I have no one. My mom gets so mad at me sometimes. I’m a donor kid, I’ll meet my dad at 18. My grandmother doesn’t care. My grandfather, the only person I was ever close to, died my 8th grade year. And I grew distant with him the last two years of his life. My handicapped great-aunt I help everyday is self-centered and manipulative. Her son is a compulsive liar who tried to rape one of my cousins. The people in my family I’m closest to live in Europe. And the saddest part? I feel like I can trust my French teacher more than my mother. I feel like I’m a part of her family almost… even though I know I’m not. And I doubt she even cares. And I feel like my Chef, my culinary instructor is more of a father than I’ve ever had. Ever.
I’ve never been hugged by a friend. I’ve never been invited with people. In fact, when my entire class was invited to a party? I mean, my ENTIRE class. I wasn’t. I. Specifically. Wasn’t. Just me.
I’ve dealt with loneliness most of my life. And I’ve been fine with it before… but…It feels worse, now. All I have are my books. My escape. My alternate universe. I live through the characters. It’s almost sad.
And please don’t look at me like I’m having a pity party……….. I’ve never told anyone this stuff. Even my “best friend”.
My biggest fear in life, is that I’ll never be kissed, never have a boyfriend, never have a child, never have a family of my own. And each and every day, I think… it would be so much easier if I just… died. No one cares about me. And here I sit. Alone. Venting to the internet to people who won’t even give a shit about this. Oh well. C’est la vie..