I feel so sickly lonely

I’ll be very honest here: I’m not the best socially. Personally, I would say that I am a terrific writer especially at my age. But I cannot speak to save myself.

I have friends but they don’t text me much.

It doesn’t help that I started homeschooling again so I remain inside. I guess my point is that I don’t feel as if the people who are my friends are my friends anymore. So I feel alone.

Sometimes I get tried of always having to text first or start conversation first. I wish someone would show me the same enthusiasm or that they enjoyed my company. I wish someone would extend their hand out to me instead of me always being the one doing so. It is beyond annoying and it frustrates me. Am I just not a likeable person? But why would someone not end a relationship (platonic or romantic) in the beginning when it’s most logical to do so? Or a better question, what’s wrong with me?

I don’t know how to make friends anymore. But at the same time, I do not want to since I end up feeling negative anyways. It happened before and now it is happening again. No one talks to me. No one looks at me. No one might as well care. It’s part of life to crave attention but I’m sure that human part of me will fade away similarly. It’s an anomaly.


Hey wren,

I totally get where you’re coming from on the friend front. Like I have a couple great friends, and we don’t necessarily talk every day, maybe like once a week if that, but we know that if we need each other we’re there for each other. Sometimes i’ll shoot like a tiktok or instagram reel to them to make them laugh or just say hi. I’m usually the one that initiates most conversations. It sucks, for sure.

I don’t think anything is wrong with you, quite the opposite actually. You took time out of your day to share your feelings and thoughts with us. That’s brave af!

Making friends is very organic, it’s not like you can just go out there and be like “i’m gonna make some friends today!”, it’s one of those things where it just kinda happens. Across any avenue, really. Like i’ve met friends at concerts, through mutual friends, and even through music groups. Not sure if there are any groups for writers, but that could be something since you’ve got that common bond already


I wish that I always wasn’t the one making an effort. Maybe my expectations are too high, but it gets boring and tiring being the one who plans everything and who has to pick everything for everyone else. It’d just be nice for someone to do something instead of me always having to initiate it. It’s so annoying to me.

I’m regressing possibly because of depression or that I’m done dealing with everything, but I haven’t been talking to my closest friend lately. Well, only a few texts but that’s it. Before it used to be everyday all day. It’s been nice having a break if I’m being honest, but that makes me feel like a bad person.

I might join a homeschool band and then I’d be around other people. But again, I’m not the best at socializing and making friends. And I tend to be more focused on learning than on other people. I often stay by myself and I prefer it that way in a sense. I feel that I don’t get along with my peers well or we barely have anything in common. Where I live, anime isn’t so popular. The same with video games it seems, at least the ones that I play. And the particular styles I like feel taboo. I tend to ramble about things like health because nutrition and body systems are so fascinating but no one else finds them interesting??

Ah I’m just venting now. Maybe I’ll find someone. I hope.



I’m sorry that you went through that, and those people did not have the right to touch you or make you do things without your consent. I believe there is hope for the future. I want to give you advice if that is ok; I just want to help. If you find yourself in another similar situation, you should remove yourself from it as best as possible and speak up; do not put up with it if it hurts or makes you uncomfortable. Please do not let other people stop you from enjoying a life you deserve to have. The world is better with you in it, and you are amazing for sharing your experience with us and breaking the silence; that is hard to do, so be proud of yourself. You are helping many people you may not know by speaking up about this topic. I hoped this helped 🫶🏻


In the moment when I was writing all of that, I was overwhelmed. I’m fine now. It’s very hot and cold, ahah.

I know I should have left but there’s fear involved with it. Not being in control of my own emotions and being told how to feel messed me up as well. The most logical action to take is to leave the person. But that becomes difficult when in the very manipulated mind, following orders is the best way to go. In short:

Obeying = no pain, praise, kindness
Not obeying = pain, torment, mocking, belittling

I like to satisfy the people around me. I force myself to go beyond what they want so I don’t become a burden and so I’ll be praised. I don’t know how to set boundaries and I end up getting hurt because of it. I know right from wrong but that gets twisted in the midst of chaos. Because of this, I don’t have high hopes for myself in the future. If it’s out of fear, I’ll do anything.

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It is okay to want to make those around us feel good but we must think about ourselves first. If you do not mind, I want to give you advice. I want to help, and you do not have to do anything I say. It is a good idea to act as the main character because you are the main character of your life. Everyone else is a side character in your life; since this is your life, you should prioritize yourself and happiness. I think this will help set boundaries and avoid fearful situations. I hope this helped.


Hi Wren. I wanted to reach out to you because when I read your post, I related to it, and because I noticed something special about your words; You care about other people’s perspectives. Its hard to set boundaries when you have a good heart and want to do no harm. I would encourage you to care for yourself as much as you would for others because you deserve it as a good human being. Some people are very likeable skin-deep, and others, like yourself have much more to offer in terms of value. :heart:


@Celine_N -
I have trouble trying to be the main character in my life for multiple reasons. I lost a lot of my emotions since I shut down. I’m still shut down and whenever memories resurface, I don’t know how to deal with my emotions. I’m immature emotionally for this reason. I often become ill tempered and the nastiest snarls come from my throat. Or I become so overwhelmed that I can’t conduct myself. I have bruises on my hands from hitting things out of frustration. It’s embarrassing, really, since I shouldn’t be acting like a child at my age. I’m a clam person, I really am. But another part of why I find being the main character of my life is because it feels like I have multiple me’s inside of my body. I’m unsure of how to describe it. It’s probably another coping mechanism along with me shutting down emotionally.

@stuck_life -
Thank you. I have trouble accepting such kind words in all honesty. I also struggle with treating myself kindly, mostly from the abuse. I’ve gotten used to being degraded and being told how worthless I was. Well, am. But that’s negative thinking and no one wants to hear that. It’s hot and cold, back and forth within myself. Multiple me’s that can’t accept anything without bickering optimistically, pessimistically, and realistically.

I don’t want to hurt people. I don’t want to make people feel how I felt. In a sense, I’m what I call soft. Gentle, tenderhearted, caring. I often discard that side of myself since it seems too vulnerable and feminine. I don’t exactly know what I’m chasing after. I’ve never known how to set boundaries. Praise only reinforces the behavior and the expectations only rise. I wouldn’t say I’m a people pleaser, though.

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TW: sh

I’ve relapsed again.

I was clean for two or more weeks. I can’t fully remember, but I think it was three weeks, close to a whole month. I stopped cutting less and less and slowly my urges dwindled away. I found cutting to not be satisfying anymore and so I wanted something more extreme. I haven’t come up with anything yet but maybe that’s for the better. I shouldn’t be so nonchalant about this.

My thigh hurts so bad. Yesterday I cut and today I did as well and I shouldn’t have done it in the same area because cutting cuts hurts horribly. It’s a nonstop burning sensation. I think a few will scar. But I don’t like cutting multiple places at once because then it’s harder to hide. If I do one limb at a time, wait usually two weeks, then cut the other limb, I don’t feel as bad about myself.

I’ve gotten into the mindset of trying to destroy my body. It’s been like that since the abuse. I want there to be nothing attractive about my body so no one else will dirty it further. I can’t explain my logic. It’s the want to be repulsive. And yet I still can’t help but reach my hand out to society only to yank it away out of fear. Not like anyone would notice anyways.

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It’s good news that when you stopped cutting, the urge to do so started going away. It sounds like you have something of a distinction between two reasons for cutting. The first seems to be that cutting is becoming less satisfying to you, so you want something more extreme. Does that mean that you want to experience a more extreme sensation?

The second reason you mentioned has to do with making your body less appealing. To me, that sounds like you want to feel more safe. Do you feel that cutting is safe?

I want all of you to be safe, including your body, mind, and heart. I want you to feel safe without having to hurt yourself to feel that way.

I’m sorry that you feel such fear to reach out. It sounds like you had some bad experiences as a result of trying. Please consider that not all attempts to reach out will end badly. While thinking about what can go wrong, think also about what can turn out to be truly helpful.

I think you might find something useful here:

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By “more extreme” I mean something more damaging. Something bigger, maybe more painful. I don’t know at this point if I’m being honest. All I know is that I want more. I’ve thought about dripping chemicals into my cuts, for example. I’ve thought about stabbing myself instead of only cutting. The problem is that once I start, I can’t stop. I become so infatuated with the pain that it becomes enjoyable and I crave it. If I can’t cut, then I have tendency to dig my nails into my palms or scratch my sides. The more I go, the more I can tolerate which leads me literally deeper and deeper.

I think in a way, cutting feels safe to me. My thought process is along the lines of, “if I hurt myself first then no one else can.” And so that crates a lot of self destructive behaviors. I think it’s also a way for me to control my body. It’s because of the past, really. Other people controlled it so now I want to. So destroying it is my control and also my safety.

I give up often on trying to get help. I feel like someone would look at me as if I was disgusting. (That’s for someone who would be kind to me. Me wanting to repulse people is to those who would hurt me). I’ve also been told countless times about how “it could’ve been worse.” I talked about that before. I don’t see a point in trying when I’m just denied. It’s a waste of energy to me. And I figure I can make it out on my own again, like I’ve done before.

And thank you. I’ll look at the link tomorrow.

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Ah. I really can’t control myself now. I don’t know how to stop once I start.

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I considered the possibility of those being your thoughts, also the idea of controlling your own pain rather than allowing someone else to. In a way, it reminds me of those who isolate themselves in order to avoid being rejected by others.

When a person self-harm’s, does it prevent pain caused by others? Does it combine pains? Does a person feel as though they are assuming the role of another who is causing hurt? What might happen if the focus turns to minimizing pain caused by self or others?

It really is hard to be in the world while avoiding risk of being hurt. Sadly, you have been hurt a lot. I think that’s why you have often given up on trying to get help. Those who would say, “it could’ve been worse,” seem profoundly unqualified to be in a mental health profession. A true professional knows that such judgments are insensitive and childish.

I would like to think that you have access to a person who will understand and validate your feelings. It seems as though much of your pain is the result of not feeling understood. After all, how can someone help you move forwards, if they don’t know where you currently are?

Please don’t give up on reaching out, even if you have to go through several therapists until you find one that is helpful.

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I think part of the reason that I’ve given up on trying to get help is that I figure and I believe that I’m self sufficient. I feel like I was forced to grow up in a way. Long story:

If I remember correctly, I was around 11-13 when both parents were working and one didn’t come home until late afternoon, the other one gone for weeks before coming back. I was alone except with access to my abuser and when my sibling would wake up in the afternoon. Anyways, I would do my school work alone, 8am-12pm, with minimal help later. I had a very strong hate for leftovers, I found them gross, so I always made food for myself. Usually ramen or rice with sriracha (not the healthiest). Eventually, I was taught how to make a scrambled egg and so I ate a lot of that, actually. Because of this alongside other things, I feel self sufficient. Why do things with people when I can do it myself?

The control part of hurting myself is about the pain but also because I’m tired of people touching me inappropriately. More so the latter. I do also isolate myself, though. I barely speak to my family on a daily basis. Again, I feel self sufficient and that “I don’t need anyone else.” Yet here I am. Well, I’m not fully here. I’m not fully anywhere. Only a sliver, maybe one hand at the most. The rest is hiding behind a shadow veil where I find it most safe.

In reality, hurting myself isn’t giving me any safety or control. I know this but it’s difficult to explain my logic. I know the truth but I still chose to believe those saccharine lies. I have a toxic relationship with myself. Nothing I do is lessening the distress, it’s only worsening my entire mental state.

You’re right, though. I do not feel understood. I never have. Trust is hard to gain and easy to destroy. I don’t try to bother with trust anymore since it’s only led me to getting hurt. I’ll admit it: I’m an odd person. People don’t understand my humor, my art, me as a person it seems. So I’ve given up. There’s no point in trying to get a deaf society to listen when it’s a condition they’ve come to. That’s the best way I can describe it.

People don’t understand what they find as horrific or weird. I am horrific and weird whether it be my art or my mental state. People are scared of the unknown and the unfamiliar. It’s unfortunate. If I told someone about my past, I’d be told how none of it was my fault and I shouldn’t feel guilty. All those normal human responses of uncertainty only scratch the surface of a very infected and deep wound. In other words, they will never help or change my mind but rather hurt me more since the scab would be ripped apart.

I have a therapist. But I go through phases where I don’t even trust my therapist or those around me. I used to delude myself into thinking my parents were going to kill me via poisoning my food. Or my old counselor was going to rape me. Right now, I’m in a distrustful phase. I don’t trust them for no logical reason other than a feeling. I can’t trust my emotions, though, and I don’t want to. They’re too biased.

It’s an accumulation of sickness.

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I can relate to that too. I was cooking and carrying my clothes to the laundromat by the time I was 11. I was always a misfit and a loner. I was sexually molested and abused at home and at school. At age 10, I was headed to the fruit cellar with a butcher knife, intending to fall on it, just as I had heard spoken of on TV. Fortunately, my brother stopped me and talk me out of it. My early life was a combination of abuse, violence, neglect and abandonment. I was an adult before I even had a clue that there was such a thing as integrity and sincerity, and I found it outside my family.

As a child, I thought it was awful that I was thought of as weird and a misfit. I felt as though it was terribly unfair. I was certainly misjudged almost constantly. My best defense was to try and make myself invisible. Years later, I figured out that there are advantages to having faced a difficult and painful upbringing. It allowed to me to observe more of the world around me, unencumbered by trying to “fit in.” Conversations among those in my own age group were mostly about shallowness, vanity, ego, and trying to fit in. It occurred to me that being that way was an insidious form of suffering, possibly even worse than what I experienced as a misfit.

There are artists, authors, musicians, among others, who tend to duplicate what seems to be trendy at the moment. In doing that, they are actually compromising their creativity.

The most creative artists stand apart, and industry critics are often known for considering such people “horrific or weird.” Music moguls thought of the Beatles as a strange and ultimately doomed to failure group.

The point I am trying to make is that although you have faced pain and injustice, along with feeling as though you are “different” from others (indeed we all are),That experience gives you a unique and valuable perspective on the world, and I suspect, a spectacular amount of empathy.

When I was eight years old, I was taken out of school. My parents were told that I was “retarded,” which was the term for developmental delay in those days. Years later, it occurred to me that my extremely withdrawn state was interpreted as autism, when in reality it was PTSD. So, for a little while, my formal education was over. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending how you look at it, a few months later, my mom caught me reading a college textbook. She thought I was just pretending to read, so she decided to play along and asked me what it was about. I gave her a detailed explanation, and she was shocked, because I explained the material very accurately. What followed was evaluations by three different psychiatrists, and it was established that I was the opposite of “dumb.” Did I mention that my parents were strange? :upside_down_face: As a result of the testing, they decided to put me back in school it the same grade level, with no counseling or other form of intervention to deal with the PTSD. Despite knowing all the material that was being taught, years ahead of time, I failed miserably until I dropped out at age 15. It’s okay though, as I went back as an adult and graduated college with honors.

The point is, I got used to being misunderstood, and with only a couple of exceptions, I still am. I came to realize that I simply must forgive people for not understanding me. Heck, even after years of marriage, my wife still has a hard time figuring me out. Happily, she understands me at least enough to continue caring about me.

I suspect in your case, being misunderstood has to do with others not being familiar with the kind of suffering that you’ve experienced, but also your insight and intellect sets you apart.

From reading what you have written, I get the impression that you are making progress both towards self understanding and in attaining steps towards healing.

Thanks for writing back. Please stay in touch.

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I don’t really know what to say. My thoughts are messy. “I’m sorry” just doesn’t get my point across. This might be kind of weird, but I find it incredible how it seems you’ve been able to heal, correct me if I’m wrong. Not my usual fascination like scientific or medical things but one I can’t describe. It’s admirable and it gives me a sense of hope. But at the same time it horrifies me. Having insight that becoming better can be reality is terrifying to me.

I have a hard time identifying my emotions. I believe I’m somewhat emotionally stunted since that part of me was and still is shut off. I don’t know what I’m feeling. This is the best way I can describe it-

Those petals, the ones withered into grim dusk. Longing for the day in a chained and forbidden world glared upon endlessly by the moon. Black fields dripping with dreary gloom. Wrath, envy, and solitude, all swirling around in fuming tendrils of decaying flowers. Venom in slurped veins.

Weeping meekly on scraped knees, a shadow veiled figure grown grotesque. Learning the true knowledge of the world, the evil that so many prostitute themselves to. Once having smelled the wretched scent of iron, tasted the putridness of fresh ichor. Enlacing around tense fingers, tears from the impure past haunting a silent whisper. Kissing the beloved jaw, licking down the devoured waist and lurking. Seeping into the sleeping flowers without awake. But they begin to stand upward and blind their torn petals in the sun. Yet the meek still weeps.

I often write of flowers. I used to want to be a botanist. But flowers have such great meaning, especially in writing- beauty but also a sign of grief depending on the context.

I’ve always been told how smart I am. I don’t believe it though. I do a lot of stupid things. That’s another thing I’ve come to realize. I try to keep up an image of decent intelligence while neglecting the obvious child within me. Sometimes I’d like to act my age, whatever that means, but I can’t. Because again, it all comes down to self sufficiency and almost being forced to grow up. It feels unnatural in a way.

I have a difficult time talking with my peers since it’s like you said. A lot of things are materialistic. I prefer talking about concepts, ideas, facts, or anything else related to all of those. I feel more mentally stimulated when speaking with adults because it’s easier to hold an intelligent conversation.

To leave off on a good note, my old counselor once told me: “you have the spirit of an old man.” Take that as you will. They also told me how I had a very beautiful gender neutral face. I’m beautiful, apparently. These memories are kind of bittersweet. They make me what I think is “happy.” Except happiness doesn’t last, joy does.

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Hi @wren_wyn :people_hugging:

First of all, sorry I’m a bit late to the party on this one!

I want to start my reply by saying that it’s clear you have a lot of self-awareness - meaning you know what makes you you. Not very many people have this quality, so it’s great to seem that you possess it. You recognise your strengths as a writer, and the problems you face in social situations. I’m glad you decided to reach out to the community with these feelings.

When you talk about homeschooling again and being indoors and isolated more often, it sounds like you may have slight cabin fever. I’m only suggesting this because when COVID lockdowns were in place I struggled with this a lot. I really found online learning much more difficult. However it seems like your friendship group dynamic has shifted massively, and that could also be contributing to feelings of loneliness. It’s really tough when friends don’t give you the same effort in return. You shouldn’t let your worst be consumed by this, because you will make new connections.

Being the one to always reach out is draining and disheartening. I know this as I am that person too. I give so much to everyone, that I never get anything back in return. You aren’t being unreasonable by wanting the same effort in return. To me, no response is a response, but it doesn’t mean people dont like you or hate you. Everybody is going through challenges, and sometimes the case is that people are unaware of how their actions are affecting you, but that doesn’t make it okay.

In the situation you find yourself in, it’s not uncommon to feel as if you’re unlikable or that everybody around you hates you. However, you have to challenge these negative thoughts. I know from previous posts I’ve replied to of yours, that you have unique strengths and qualities. It goes without saying that your worth goes way beyond the current friendship issues. You have so much offer, but finding meaningful connection should be your goal.

Certain friendships don’t always last. Sometimes there are good and proper reasons for this, whilst other times there isn’t. People change, communication breaks down and circumstances evolve. This doesn’t mean that you are flawed in yourself. Relationships are complex and have a lot of things that influence them positively and negatively.

This journey will take time, but I have faith in you! Z❤️


I feel like it’s been mentioned often how I have self awareness. I don’t know how, though. My only explanation is that since I spend a lot of my time alone, I’m more focused on myself. Not in a narcissistic way, but instead of focusing on the behaviors of others, I only have myself to analyze. If that makes sense.

I actually work better online than at school physically. I can go at my own pace and work ahead. Although it’s become a bit more stressful because of due dates, I still prefer it. I left my school this 2nd semester because of bullying. Being online is lonely and I sometimes crave to go to the store for example just so I can immerse myself back into society and out of my own world. Since my friends are in school 8am-3pm, there isn’t much talk between us. Depression has also made me withdraw from everyone. My relationships don’t feel satisfying anymore and so I find myself either bored or annoyed.

The way I’ve put it before is that I want to be “treated,” too. Sometimes I want someone to hug or hold me. I’ve imagined it a few times. Not with anyone in particular. Just someone. A warm body. Kind. I find myself envious. Anyways, I brush it off and tell myself how I don’t need anyone. I tend to make excuses to try and validate myself such as, “I need to focus on my studies instead,” or, “My education is most important, there is no time for friends.” To which I would also say (somewhat jokingly), “I can’t help it, I’m Asian.” I. I have no explanation for my idiotic behavior.

I find it hard to be likeable. I’m quiet and closed off which can be seen as me having a big ego or being cocky which is not true in the slightest. I’m a shy person and I have trouble speaking to people I’m not familiar with. I say strange things, I’ve been called a creep by my friends. Not a creep in a perverted context, but more so a morbid one. I don’t have a lot of confidence or self esteem. Because of my school situation, I feel even more ostracized from my peers.

I’m hoping one day I’ll find someone who isn’t judgmental like so many other people seem to be. Someone warm. But for now, it’s lonely.

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When I was younger, I had that feeling several times. There was one time in particular in which that feeling caused me a fairly spectacular meltdown. At the time, I was living in a very depressed section of the downriver area of Detroit. The economy had been in a terrible shape for years, and throughout that time, I was working minimum wage jobs and was going further and further into debt. I ended up going bankrupt, but could not get out from under a soul crushing medical debt.

This was long before I had attained any significant level of emotional healing. I muddled through my days, alternating between feelings of numb despair and depression. Like many others have reported here, I did my best to act “normal.” I had a wife and kids, and I didn’t want them to know how rotten I felt. I was working two jobs with only six hours between them.

One day, quite unexpectedly, I was offered a really good paying contract that would change my life entirely. It would enable me to clear my debts and live comfortably.

I should have been happy, right? In fact, I should’ve been overjoyed to the point of being giddy.

Instead, I was terrified. It was as though I was experiencing 24/7 panic. Strangely enough, there was an element of despair as well.

I did succeed in getting my wits together well enough to succeed at this new venture. Gradually, the anxiety faded. There were even times when I didn’t feel depressed.

Why did I have a meltdown? Why the overwhelming sense of foreboding? It took me a while to figure it out.

I came to realize that I had suffered for so long, that the pain and despair had become much of my identity. Therefore, when the good news arrived, at a deep level, I was afraid of losing myself, no longer having any idea of who I was or how I was going to function in this new set of circumstances. It was “fear of change” on steroids. In a way, it was as though I was facing my own death as a miserable failure trudging through life until one day I dropped dead. After all, that’s who I thought I was. It was beyond my imagination that I could be anything different.

I have become better at accepting change and even pursuing it. It’s still scary sometimes. Even as my self-concept evolves, I still need to muster the courage to let it happen. Yet it has happened a lot over the years, so I’m getting used to it.

About 60 miles from here, there is a springfed lake that I’ve been to several times. Even on the hottest days, the water is shockingly cool if you dive into it. I found that if I ran down the beach and dived into the water, that initial shock passed fairly quickly. Then I could start swimming and having fun.

Diving into that lake is analogous to the method I now use to face change. Before my meltdown and coming to understand it, I was the kind of person that you often see, trying to enter the water slowly, shivering and cringing all the way. Sometimes I would change my mind and just decide not to go in the water, just as I would resist change.

Now, as long as the decision seems responsible and rational, I’m far more likely “dive into” the change.

The bottom line is, becoming better can be terrifying because it is indeed change.

The good news is, there is an ongoing continuum of change occurring within you, and based on my observations, it is quite positive. Many of our seemingly sudden changes are actually the result of gracefully evolving inner change.

Truly, there is an inner child. The child requires a measure of discipline, but also unconditional love. Everyone has an inner child. Among other things, including stubbornness and petulance, this child facilitates joy and a sense of wonder.

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I think getting rid of pain is like tearing bandages off your face. Not just bandages, but the scabs that stuck to them, too. It’s agonizing and in a way, very raw. It’s like letting yourself become vulnerable. But while being in a state of fear, it’s difficult to let any guard down.

I have trouble letting myself become vulnerable because of two things: #1, weakness, #2, fear of getting hurt again. I have a bad habit of telling myself to “harden” as a way to shove an even bigger gap between me and others. That it is too weak to feel anything which leads to emotions being too feminine. I know having emotions isn’t a sign of femininity. I have issues with my “identity.” But it’s of no use trying to decipher nonsense.

Often times since I cannot feel much, I go off of logic, critical thinking, and common sense. That’s why I have such trouble putting meaning to how I feel. That’s why I write fancy nonsense alongside my emotional nonsense. My emotions feel like pressure. A pressure in my chest breaking my ribs. It’s painful at times. But I have no clue what it is I am feeling exactly.

I don’t know why I struggle with letting any other side of me out. Any side that is childish, at least. Maybe because I believe that the opposite is expected of me. I can’t explain it well because I don’t know how to define it at the moment. Perhaps being a “child” is also being vulnerable, especially since I was taken advantage of as a young child. I tend to loathe children because I can’t come to understand why other 8 year olds are having fun with their friends while I have none and am being preyed upon. Why other 10 year olds get to have a happy life while I’m being forced into doing the most atrocious of acts with multiple individuals. In other words, I’m jealous because it’s so painful. I’ve been killed before I could even live so I live life as a faceless corpse curled up into fetal positions.

Being childish takes away maturity. I feel like I have to be mature. And I will say that I somewhat am. Sometimes I accidentally slip, though, and I berate myself for it later. Maybe because I consider myself a writer and that such writing has to be coming from a mature and intelligent person. I’m trying to match the image I have for myself but I don’t know if I’ll ever get there.

In the end, I’m just like anyone else. I desire someone to congratulate me, to listen to me, to hug me, to want me. I want human things yet I strip myself of any human aspects. I tell myself that it’s weak to want affection because the other side of me is repulsed by the idea of someone even hugging me. I don’t know what I want. But I’m greedy, just like everyone else, and I want more.

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