im tired

i wrote about feeling like an outsider the other day, but lately been feeling even more like an outsider.

my social skills feel like they’ve fallen apart, and i’ve become even more insecure about how people perceive me.

i feel like i’m annoying, i feel like i come off as weird, i feel like i make other people not want to talk to me. i don’t know what it is. sometimes i delete social media for this pathetic feeling of being missed. that moment when i open the app and see that other people sent me messages it makes me feel like i’m wanted.

at the risk of sounding incredibly cringe, i must say that it feels like no one gets me.

i feel alone in my suffering, this suffering that no longer feels self inflicted.

i can do things now, i can go to uni, write essays, go out for walks, i am a semi-functional human being. yet, it feels like there’s something missing. something possibly out of my control

maybe it’s acceptance.

i want the acceptance and connection that i had with the people i grew up with, and i want that with other people. it feels like an unachievable desire, but even if it is something that is possible, i do not think i am capable of it.

it’s like every single time i say a word, i choose the wrong one. and once i’ve chosen it I can’t help but think about that exact word a thousand times over.

after every interaction i start questioning myself.

did i speak too loudly? did i send too many messages? did i make a bad joke? did i creep them out? did i do everything wrong? did i fuck up again?

i’m consumed by this, consumed by how i should’ve stitched together a better syntax, a perfect symphony of words that hide who i am.

as times goes on and on i see myself rely on alcohol to make myself feel normal. at one point i used to drink alcohol to make myself feel good, feel entertained, to have fun. but now, i drink to make myself feel “normal”. while i may feel better in that moment, i regret it, i regret texting people when i’m drunk. it’s this shame that comes the day after, you can read the texts you sent, you can hear the things you said, you can vaguely see out the eyes of the person that existed in that moment, and not just feel shame, but also disgust.

and when you start sending so many texts, they stop responding.

people leave me on seen far more than they used to and i don’t know if it’s because they’ve outgrown me or if they’ve realised who i am.

i know i’ve changed, i’ve done my best, i show clear improvements i know that for a fact. but how would they know that? they still see me as who i was, and every time i see them i feel like i revert to this version of myself that isn’t me anymore.

why? why do i do this to myself? the person that writes this is so different from the person that has to interact and speak with any of you, and i wonder to myself is that the case for everyone? i’ve said this before but it feels like everyone is playing a cruel joke on me, that everyone feels like this and they’ve collectively decided not to tell me, i guess i’d rather that be the case than be the only one.

i used to feel so much active hate towards myself, but now all i feel is acceptance. acceptance that i am who i am, i am this broken shell of a man that wanders about from place to place, i am this disgusting thing i see in the mirror, i am doomed to live a life that’ll inevitably cut short by own hands.

therapy or meds don’t change the if, they only change the when.

i see people around me, people that feel like authentic versions of themselves, and then i feel like i’m masquerading as normal. poorly so, evidently.

let me break the meta and ask you the question.

do you ever feel like every single part of you is a lie?
your interests, your skills, your morals, your name.
does every single fibre of your being feel false?
cause it does to me, even as i write these words i feel like i’m lying, magnifying this illness, this state, this person.

as i write this i wonder, is the person writing this actually me? am i the person in this state, or am i the guy that comes off as creepy? or the person that treats other people like shit? or am i that fucking failure roaming the rues, rueing this existence.

my life is hollow, i don’t know if i’m capable of any emotion of actual substance. i can laugh, i can cry, i can feel rage, but underneath it all, theres nothing.

when you shut your eyes and disregard everything else for a moment, do you know who you are? is there a word or feeling inside that tells you what you are? in that absence of everything else, who are you?

for the longest time, the only word in my mind was failure. but now, i strip myself from even that title.

the only word left to describe me is “wrong”.