Since I was ten I felt alone. I’ve had this loneliness that haunts me at night, keeping me up for hours until I can finally cry myself to sleep. I’ve always felt misunderstood. Like I had this sophisticated sense of sadness that no one could understand. That no one felt at the level I did.
Recently I’ve realized I’ve had egoistic views on my mental health. I’m just like any other depressed teenager, my sadness isn’t a maze you’d get lost in trying to figure out. in fact it’s even less than that. It’s nothing. I’m nothing.
I’m not a very interesting person, the most intriguing thing about myself would be my self hatred, but these days everyone can relate to that. I’m not special for wanting to disappear. I’m not special for hoping that each night I go to bed is the last. There’s no substance to my character, no depth. I can’t hold or make conversation. I can’t make friends. I can’t open up to those around me and build strong relationships. I’m not very smart and I lack the charisma to make up for it. I’m boring. Just boring.
Sure some people dislike me while others think I’m odd. But I’m sure everyone can agree that once you get to know me, there’s actually not much to learn. And that’s what I’m most disappointed about, in my self. I have no talents, no interesting hobbies or interests.
I’m nothing.
