I’m average looking. I have a mundane personality. I was molested as a child and its effects still reverberate into every aspect of my life. My friends in highschool eventually betrayed me and made fun of me behind my back because, among other things, my family couldn’t afford to buy me decent clothes because my father was blowing all our cash on drugs. I can count the number of relationships I’ve had on one hand, and none of them have lasted longer than a few weeks because I’m afraid of physical contact. I sabotage my own relationships on purpose. No girl has ever told me that she loves me, and none of them thus far want to try to stick it out and help me with my issues. Too much baggage. I’ve only had sex once and it was a travesty, a horrible, embarrassingly awkward situation that makes me cringe whenever I think about it. I have no friends because I, for a long time now, utterly refuse to get close to people. I work a dead end job that’s about as mentally fulfilling as a sledgehammer to the face. I live in a small room that becomes more and more like a prison with each day that passes. I have no clue how to change my life, or if it’s even possible at this point. I have no desire to kill myself but I also have no desire to continue life. I’m in limbo.

In short, I hate my fucking life with the intensity of a thousand suns. I keep telling myself that it could be worse and it’s like a fucking mantra to me at this point, and I say it to myself whenever things go wrong or I feel despair and anger due to my situation. I have the distinct feeling that I’m going to end up like those crazy people you see on the streets, all wild eyed and muttering to themselves.