But it describes what I feel about myself. For as long as I can remember, I have used every ounce of what little strength I have to try to act like a normal human being. It is all I want, but it is not working. I can’t do this anymore. I want to be the cool, laid-back guy that is always willing to do anything to help out a friend, but in recent years I have managed to push away a lot of good people, leaving only some of my family. I think they are the only reason I am still here. If I could not always have the option of going home on some weekends to see my Mom and my dog, who, despite my personality, are still always happy to see me, I don’t think I would still be here. I love my Dad too; another short trip and I can make his day by simply dropping in. But if they were not around, I’m positive I would have ended all this long ago. The thing is, I know they all will not be around forever, so where would that leave me? I don't want to sound selfish, the one thing I believe about myself is that I am not. It's just that in the past I have been so willing to help anyone I thought I should care about to the point where I felt screwed in the end. For fuck’s sake, I am a senior in college, I should have figured all this out long ago; but these realizations I have long since abandoned. I have missed out on a lot of normal life experiences. I have never been approached by an interested member of the opposite sex; I’ve never even had sex, and am sure I will die without experiencing it. People say, “you’re better off, it can be a hassle,” or “it’s better to never have it then have it just every once in a while.” But it’s easy for them to say. They don’t think about hanging themselves because they will always be without someone to share life with, or even the wants and needs that every person has. Still, it is one of many things I have given up on. I see why when I look at myself in the mirror, which I try to avoid doing anyway. I have a list a mile long of things I wish I had done, and people laugh when they hear even one thing that is on it. I am also an alcoholic and an addict of sorts, usually just cigarettes, and other ‘legal’ means that are sought out by me to try to forget about my everyday life, which is filled with disappointments in myself. I am not good at any one thing, there is nothing that makes me stand out besides my cynical outlook, awkwardness, and total lack of self-confidence. I wish I could have been the normal kid that experimented, had a great time, but still managed to keep my shit together. But I’m not. Something as trivial as trying pot I am even pissed about missing out on. It’s something else many say I’m better off without… I guess the best thing I can do is take their word for it. What else can I do? What’s left? All I have is the ability to over-think even the most minor of situations, and soon after kick myself for not saying or doing the right thing. Saying hello to acquaintances in the hallway or cashiers at the market is not easy when you are self-conscious about the sound of your own voice. Crippling social anxiety keeps me home whenever I don’t have to be anywhere. I’ve never been to a bar in the city I go to school in with friends, to a concert, or been offered a hug by anyone. The only person that has ever accepted my offer for a date I met when I was seventeen. That was after we were friends, and I stayed with her for the several months following. She wanted someone to hang around with when her parents would let her, and to hold hands with and act cute. Take that, normal 17-year-old desires. I know I sound like a real asshole, but it was the best I could do. If I hear anyone talk about sex, I want to swallow a goddamned razor blade. Typing the word pains me, I can’t think about it. Here I am, 6 years since then, and nothing has changed. Every year that passes by it just grows more pathetic. The seldom and random few that I actually build relationships with, platonic only of course, are just that; few and far between. I’m sure if any of them were to read all this they would reply with “Oh, stop, it’s not that bad. Get over it.” So does that reaffirm my pathetic-ness, or just my ability to repress my feelings? After all, depression is just anger without enthusiasm, right? I guess I just wanted to get all that out for the first time ever… There is no one I can talk to. For the time being I will just keep self-medicating and crying myself to sleep thinking about what have could have been.