I feel so alone. I am empty of feelings. Numb to affection, hopeless in my future. I resent my family for what they did I hate myself. I just want some one to talk to. I hate this feeling. I used to write letters as a form of self therapy. And I started reading a book called prozac nation to help me cope. Her description matched my letters I wrote before I found the book. Its near perfect. Even knowing I am not the only one I still feel empty and secluded. I am paralyzed By my own hatred. I fantasize about the grip of a pistol. The feeling it has as its pressed to my head. Its hypnotic.