It seems there are entirely too many options to choose from in life. The variety of experiences available to humans is both fascinating and terrifying to me, and what is worse: I seem to be taking the road least desirable. I do not see an improvement in myself taking place any time soon. I do not know where this could go other than down hill. I have a total of two people in my life, a best friend and a father. Everything and everyone else is currently superficial and meaningless without exception. These two people are sure to remove themselves from my life within at least the next five years: the best friend will move away, the father will most likely be dead from heart complications. My mother has already died of lung cancer (I say this as I light up another cigarette in eternal remembrance of her most notable habit). I do not speak to my sister, and everyone else in my family is too neurotic or distant to have a relationship with. I do not know how to form new relationships. As a matter of fact, I am entirely too paranoid to even try these days. I don't know how to make friends anymore. In a few years, I am likely to find myself with absolutely NO ONE in my life. No family, no friends, no relatiosnhips...NOTHING. I don't understand the concept of human intimacy. I will sometimes get curious, but ultimately have no sense of it. Because of my crippling social deformities, I have little to no ability to stand out to employers, and have very little job experience or the intiative to make up for my lack. It is unlikely that I will have a career well-paying or fulfilling enough to make up for my complete and total lack of relationships. I am convinced that most psychiatric treatment options are harmful and threatening, and cannot force myself to go near a doctor. I would rather die than spend the rest of my life taking pills. Beyond relationships and a career, I have only my self-destructive habits and my compulsive, long-standing documentation of them through stories and poems. Which counts for little in terms of my own satisfaction in life. Conclusion: I have very little and am likely to lose even that. I feel incapable of acquiring my own and will soon have nothing. I can look forward to being a lonely street urchin in about ten years. I might as well be dead already. Last night, I was quite convinced, (out of the blue, mind you), that I would be killing myself soon. I don't know what kind of timeline "soon" has, but it just seemed really obvious at the time...I think I was expecting it within the next two or three years. I didn't have the sense that I'd made a decision, more that I was foreseeing the inevitable, finally accepting of my fate. I wasn't too frightened, just kissed my (dad's) cat goodnight and went to bed. I could elaborate on why life feels so overwhelming and exhausting, but I've already typed enough as it is. I seem to have an endless supply of things to say, and absolutely nowhere I feel I can vent ALL of them. Is there anywhere that could exist? I don't even think I'd have room in a private journal. I have entirely too much going on in my head...and it's all terrible.