Over half of the people I knew before have deleted me on facebook. What did I do to make them so repulsed by me that they had to actually break a simple, dumb, social connection just to get me completely out of their lives? Why am I so defensive and self conscious to the point that I drive all my friends away? Why am I so socially retarded? Why am I so shy, to the point that any great friends I could have had I replaced with people who felt like walls around me, people with huge attitudes I could hide behind like Claire, Madi, Katy, Megan, even Dan? Why can’t I stand up for myself? Feel comfortable in my own god damn skin? I need complete silence. It first was large groups of people, public speaking, then turned into simply going to a party, and now a restaurant, to the point where now I don’t feel comfortable even in my own home, where the traffic outside our living room window gives me anxiety. The typing of the keys on my keyboard as I type this entry. I look at everyone else and think, what is missing in my head that I am this way? Why do I hear things come out of my mouth and know they will drive a barrier between me and whoever the words are shot at and I still let them slip through my mouth? Why do I curl into myself? Why do I keep hoping for a better day? I will always be hated and misunderstood. And I will never reach out to people to change their minds. I am just like my father: one, maybe two good friends that he has just to keep his mind occupied from the rest of his miserable life, a wife he can no longer relate with (maybe never did) and kids that he has no need for. He’s almost like a psycho path in the way that he is completely dearth in the need for human contact. He doesn’t know how to relate. Will I end up like him? Completely alone? Why is Alex even bothering with me anymore? I’m a fucking pathetic recluse. I am a piece of shit. I have no self control. I will never make it to UCLA and my music… well there was never a chance for that, anyway. I hate myself, and it doesn’t even matter, because if I go through this life hating every inch of my body and soul I will still die all the same as if I were to live a life where I loved myself and everything was perfect. It all ends at some point, so why should I bother moving anymore. Getting out of bed. Eating. Talking. Listening. Trying. I will never be that happy go lucky girl with everyone’s eyes on her, everyone wishing they could be her. I am me, stuck with me for the rest of my life, maybe even eternity if you believe in that shit. I guess I don’t stop for the same reason I could stop entirely: I’ll die, either way. Might as well stay on the tracks, as samsara will try me whether I lay in bed or I sit in class. Misery is my shadow, always one step behind.