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there are dozens of things others do not know about me; to get my thoughts together, i must name a few.
- i fear to be by myself.
- i fear i have no future.
- i tend to feel useless, talentless, as if i, as a human, hold no unique purpose.
- i long constantly to meet new people, yet i have lived a life of no migration – trapped with the same dull beings of my childhood.
- i have managed to get by on consecutive acquainanceships, having exceptions to only few who suit the title of ”friend”, if only for the shortest of times.
- despite the mentioned, i act upon endless attemps to prove the truth wrong. i dig for opportunities, moments for them to prove loyalty. needless to say, each attempt ends disappointingly.
- the last shards of a positive self image shattered in my early years.
- i still fail to understand what it is about myself that holds such profound displeasure to the stranger eyes.
- it has come to my attention that in order to create a likable persona, one must welcome others through actions and emotions. it is no wonder why i am left alone to drown in miserable unhappiness – the unhappiness i keep far from the sight of others.
- so frequently do i feel the overpowering will to give up, drop everything and quit.
- so terribly, terribly frequently do i wonder how others would see me after i was gone.
- i often confirm that death – suicide – is a selfish act, the most selfish act a sole man is capable of preforming.
- i just wish, for once, some one would take a selfless interest in my well being.