Doryan the Enlightened

It's almost 0.00 and I have school tomorrow, but I decided to be, once again, pathetic and come vent about my insignificant little life. I wonder what's wrong with me. There's a part of me that wants to put myself out there, be social and, you know, do things. But then, there's a bigger part of me that wants to wrap tighter around myself, wants to crawl deeper into the shell I've built around myself. That part of me that doesn't want to do anything but lay down and die.

And maybe it's just because I am... lonely, and maybe it's not. In a way, I like being alone and I want to be alone. But there's a difference. There's a difference between being lonely and being alone. I don't want a massive group of friends, I have never been any good with those. All I want is one person who doesn't leave me, who is willing to stick with me, who is willing just to be my friend. I reckon there aren't many of those. Hell, I reckon there aren't any of those.

Which is why I am thankful for the few who haven't left. And yet I can't bring myself to hate the ones who have. Why? Because, the sad truth is, I understand why they left. I blamed them when I was younger because I was in denial, I wasn't ready to face that it was all my fault. I remember being 10 or 11 and crying, asking my mum why no one wanted to be my friend. I reckon it's one of the saddest memories I have. I don't cry in front of anyone.

But as years went past, I started seeing all the awful faults everyone else had seen in me, and I started detesting myself. That turned to hate. I often found myself thinking how much easier it would be if I just didn't exist. If I just wasn't here. That was quite easy to imagine, as people who had been big parts of my life pretended I didn't exist anymore. Pretended I wasn't there, like I never meant anything to them. Which I probably didn't.

I am tired. But despite that, I still have dreams. I have things I want to accomplish and do, there are places I want to see. Maybe, just maybe, somewhere deep down, I am not ready to lose them just yet. Maybe I still want to have hope, maybe I still want to believe I can somehow swim through this endless, cold ocean. Maybe I can.

Maybe I can't. Maybe the real thing keeping me down, wearing me down is myself. Destroy what destroys you, right? I am the thing that destroys me. I take it as I have to destroy myself before I can ever be truly happy. If I still can, that is. Maybe I lost my chance. Maybe I did something so bad, so unforgivable that I am doomed to be forever like this.

I often wonder what I should have done differently in order to be happy now. Should I have been more social when I was younger? Should I have made more friends? Should I have been better? I reckon I'll never know. I'm not sure if I want to, though. Maybe this is my destiny.

But maybe something can make me happy again. Maybe there will be a light that will shine upon me, to breathe life into me, to bring me back to life. I want to have hope, I want to believe. It's just hard. Fuck, I am so tired.