Warning: this is going to be a post springing from excessive self pity. I tried fighting the self pity but the self pity won. So if I couldn’t fight it, I might as well write about it.
At this point in time, I’m feeling extremely angry. Feeling that no one gets it. That no one understands, nor does anyone want to understand. Remember the part about the self pity? Yeah, I know.
I do imagine that if you are reading this then you probably do understand, and if not, you probably at least want to understand, but I simply cannot feel that at this moment. I’m angry at the world I suppose. I’m angry that no one notices how hard of a time I’m having. I’m angry that people keep going and the world keeps turning regardless of how hard it is or how much you’re struggling. I hate how it feels like no one in the world cares. I’m sure people do care, but I tend to push people away and not let them see my angry, or upset, or struggling. So it’s my own damn fault that people don’t know; that they cannot see; that they fail to understand. I don’t try to help them.
I have lived a very solitary life. Not in the sense of “outside”, but rather on the inside. My inside world is locked down like Fort Knox. Even I can’t get in.
Anyways, the point is there is no real point to this post other than I’m feeling all alone in this great big world and feeling quite misunderstood. By everyone and everything. Beginning to feel that perhaps I belong elsewhere. On another planet perhaps, who knows.
And that’s as much complaining as I’ll allow myself for one day.