Because the title to this subforum is so apt for what I'm feeling. Uncertainty. I'm blessed. I have a good life. I have a loving family who supports me with pretty much everything I do, letting me go to this expensive university and telling me when I get worried to just "have fun," and in the end everything is "my choice" and that "they'll support any decision I make." I have good teachers, a good counselor... I had friends. I still do, sort of. I have, by any other person's standards, a good life. I thought so too, before college. Emotionally, not just intellectually, like now. Most people would look at me and say, "What the fuck are you complaining about? You have it so good. Stop being a little bitch and appreciate what you have." I guess that's the thing. I can't blame my parents, my circumstance - the problem is all me. In the end, behind my constant, confusing stream of consciousness, in the core the problem is me. At heart I think - I know - I'm lazy and mediocre, flawed. I'm narcissistic in that I like to think highly of myself, but in the end it's a facade and I hate myself to the core. And I have no strong opinions or interests, and I can't connect to people on an intimate level. Something always feels missing. Something always feels lacking in me. I'm not suicidal, at this point. I've mostly recovered. But I feel like one day I'll wake up and it'll all come back to me how useless my life is, how karma is going to bite me in the ass and take away all the good stuff in my life, because I really don't deserve it. It's already half-taken my friends... definitely most of the self-confidence and sense of self-worth a had precariously built up these last seven years. I keep getting mild panic attacks, and my chest aches a little nearly constantly. I'm wallowing, I know. There are a lot more people who need more help, that deserve it more than I do. I'm just complaining. Just the little annoying shit who pops up on some threads to wallow in self-pity, sorry about that. But I needed to let it out, and know that someone may read this. I keep half-turning, as if to speak to someone, and realize there's no one to speak to. I have a counselor, but it's not the same as talking to someone with whom I share true empathy or intimacy. I don't have that, and just because of my disposition I doubt I ever will... so I write to myself, tonight, and tomorrow, I'll only think of my essay. This doesn't need to be read or answered. I just need to know that there's a possibility of it being read and answered, rather than no hope at all. Even now I cling to it, hope, though it feels fake. Blah. Stop complaining. EDIT: I suppose the question I'm getting at, if there is a question, is how do you fill that hole? Fix yourself? I know that this is like asking the blind to lead the blind, and incredibly specific to each person, and maybe I know deep down, intellectually, the answer - determination and dedication and optimism, yay - and I'm just too lazy and apathetic to do it, but I should keep this significant to the subforum's purpose... and I'd like to hear other people's accounts of how they deal, if they don't mind.