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[defaultededed]

I needed somewhere to scream. Somewhere people in my life can't find it. So I am here. Maybe no one will see this, maybe someone will. Doesn't matter either way.

A random inexplicable sense of dread brought me to tears for no reason. This happens often. I don't know why. I didn't do anything today to trigger it, it just happened. A queasiness, a desire to throw up, an increased heart rate. Out of nowhere. Again, inexplicable.

It kept gnawing at me all day, I kept trying to ignore it. It tore me down in the shower. So here I am.

I have no one else to talk to. I'm not sure if those I would tentatively call friends are friends or people that let me talk at them because they pity me. They've stopped responding a long time ago. I don't know if they even read it. I'm not sure if I ever had real friends. I think they were all annoyed with me and thought I was weird.

I followed them around like a mindless drone because I have hardly any will of my own. If I have no one to blindly follow, I end up in a corner by my lonesome. I am utterly neutral either way. I think. I don't know.

My thoughts are disorganised, excuse me. Things are very unstructured and meaningless. I go on tangents with no end goal.

I think I've always been like this. Nothing was ever done about it. I always had no "real" friends. I was always weird. I was always directionlessness. I always cried too easily.

I think my mum used to yell at me for it. Now I'm somehow simultaneously overly emotional for no reason and emotionally stunted. I don't cry when I should, and cry really, really hard when I shouldn't.

I can never pinpoint why. The moment it's over, I'm wondering what feeling sad even feels like. Right now I'm struggling to grasp what I was feeling in the shower. What do emotions feel like? How is that a question I can ask if I'm an overly emotional person?

I hate calling myself out not because I'm a narcissist but because I hate feeling like I'm grasping for attention. I'm a selfish two faced lying snake. I'm a lazy piece of shit with no purpose and no passion and no drive. My existence is nothing but a waste of resources. The world would be utterly unchanged if I vanished.

Shut the fuck up about self deprecation. These are facts. I hate bringing these up and being told to stop being hard on myself. I stopped bringing it up at all because it went nowhere. I hate being told I matter, because I hate being lied to to my face. And don't worry, I know that's hypocritical for a liar. I make no sense. I don't know what I'm looking for. I never have.

Since my childhood went to shit I've had a constant mantra in my head telling me to shut the fuck up. Shut up, stuff is bad as is, don't make it fucking worse you selfish fucking asshole. My parent attempted suicide, I'm not important right now. Shut the fuck up. Stop talking. Stop having issues, just blend in and be average, for fucks sake. Stop fucking crying for no reason.

Before her attempt she would privately confide in me her suicidal thoughts when I was 10. So I knew my so-called problems were trivial. I've known for most of my life. How could I dare to feel not good when I live in the same house as someone that is literally suicidal? I'm not suicidal. So I don't deserve to speak. So I tell myself to shut up.

I did fine, for a while. Acted normal in school around all the yelling and almost-violence at home. She's more important than me. My brother and his behavioural issues are a massive expensive hassle, so he is also more important than me. So don't take away attention, you fuck.

I think I'm fucking crumbling now. I'm almost 20 years old and I don't know how to be a person. I cried on the second day of uni because the teacher brought me out of class and confronted my directionlessness. I looked bored, like I didn't want to be there, and. Maybe he was right. He told me to quit while ahead and save my money. But I had nothing else. I was clinging to this. It was the only direction I could feasibly go in. So I stayed.

And it's about to end, and I have no fucking clue what comes next. I am still passionless. I am still without a "dream". I still get infuriated instead of inspired when preached to about peoples' determination to reach their dreams, because what the fuck happened to me for me to have never felt that in my entire life? "Everyone has goals and dreams", really? Then why don't I? Did I miss the memo? Was I made wrong?

Of course that's not the case. Plenty of people never had a "goal" or whatever. I just fucking despise how prevalent of an idea it is that everyone has this majestic life goal to work towards. I am envious and spiteful. I have no desire but to have desire in the first place.