For as long as I can remember, I always felt that I was born wrong. I’m completely healthy, but in my mind, I’ve always felt that this body – this shell – is not what I was meant to be born into. I remember feeling that way as a small child, but I also remember believing that I would grow out of it. I never have. It never used to depress me so much, but now all my thoughts are caving in on themselves. I’m a 25-yr-old female, single, and living on my own. I have no real family: my mother is a drug addict that I disowned over ten years ago; and my father is completely paranoid and wary of all women, including the daughter he raised. He refuses to speak to me because of the ridiculous assumption that I have reconciled with my mother, who had betrayed us both several years ago. I have younger half-siblings who I speak to on occasion via MySpace, and an aunt whom I have not seen since I was very little and has also removed herself from the family. But that’s it. Even those few relatives that I keep in touch with barely know me. I have a few friends, but no one I can really talk to. I’ve never been in any romantic relationships, as I am extremely shy and very sensitive to negative feedback, so even the slightest burn could damage me. And anyway, men generally don’t like me. I’m not a bad-looking woman, but guys appear to be uninterested in a female who doesn’t need to be taken care of. There was one guy who I met recently who told me that he did like me a lot, and asked me if I was his… but he’s married. I feel like I’m reaching the end of my rope, and I shouldn’t be. I have a really great career in information technology, I’m self-sufficient and responsible, I have never drank nor smoked nor done any drugs, and I generally stay away from people who are trouble. So why do I feel like a complete mediocrity? Why do I want to lay down and die whenever any sort of criticism is applied to me? It scares me how much I’ve been thinking of dying lately. I honestly can’t see myself ever being happy, because I don’t know what happy is. My family disintegrated when I was only six, my mother was a philandering coke head, my father became a recluse with a violent temper, and I was completely thrown away and left to my own with no one to love or to love me back. I’m just so tired of enduring this. The memories and the uselessness of crawling day after day through such a bleak life has left me reduced to tearing up over a keyboard. And the sad truth is, I can’t hurt myself. It is simply not in my nature to willfully cause myself harm, but it would be wonderful if someone crossed my path and killed me. Until then, long live the misery.