Loneliness

There's nothing like a holiday to remind you how alone and miserable you are. It's my fault of course, if I wasn't so fucked up, I might be able to make some friends. I might have a life. I might not be stuck at home just desperately wishing I could end this tortured restlessness. I might mean something. I try to be better, I try to fix myself, but it just isn't working. I've tried therapy, I've tried medication, I've tried just doing it myself, nothing works. I'm not giving up, but it just feels like I'm running in circles. Why is it so hard to make myself better? I don't think it's hopeless, but it feels that way sometimes. All I can really do is keep trying, since the alternative would be to just let it consume me until nothing mattered anymore. It's not even that I care for myself, I just wish I could be less overwhelmed and muddled in my interactions with people. I can barely stand to speak for fear that it'll give away the chaotic mess inside my head. I'm constantly worried that people can see through my attempts at being "okay" and realize that I'm insane. Not in a psychopathic mass-murderer kind of way, in a sitting on the side of the street rambling incoherently with a sign that says "the end is near" kind of way. Sometimes I think it'd be easier just to make myself on of those signs and do exactly that.