Confession

I'm so alone. I worry that nobody genuinely likes me; I worry nobody cares about me. Often, I question whether people want me to go away, to disappear, to be elsewhere or simply not to exist at all. I am terrible at reaching out to people. I alienate old friends and idealise new ones, hoping that perhaps they will be able to cure me of whatever mental ailment I have. Even now, I can't properly express anything in terms that seem human. When given the chance to express or to explain myself, I fall silent. I fail to ask anyone for help, ever. For some idiotic reason, my childhood self decided he never needed any help from anyone, ever; he decided that there was nothing he couldn't do; he decided there was no problem he couldn't fix. Well, I can't fix me. I hate being me, but I don't know how to be anything else.