I want out of my life. It’s empty and meaningless, and nothing makes me feel better for long enough to matter.
Do other people really feel like their lives have meaning? Do any of them actually want to get out of bed in the morning? They must. I’ve felt that way, even. But now I feel so empty I can’t really believe anyone else feels otherwise. I don’t really even want to die–I just don’t want to have to wake up unless things feel better.
I want someone to love me. I want to be a child again, but this time with a good family of people who actually love me. I want to redo my life without all the trauma and its consequences. I think that’s the only way I can ever get better. God knows I’ve tried all the other options.
It’s impossible, of course. Nobody can undo time. I can’t have what will heal me, and I hate myself so much for needing it that I can barely resist the impulse to rip myself apart.
You don’t DESERVE to be fixed, you know. You don’t deserve to be loved. Everybody knows that about you. Everybody.
I know. I’m sorry. I try to stop wanting, but I don’t know how. I can’t grow up. I’m too perfectly stuck. >