I don't know how to start this other than by saying that I'm a thoroughly worthless person. I'm 21. I don't work or am in education. I live with my parents. I don't particularly enjoy sharing these things about myself, they don't exactly paint the prettiest picture of me, but I feel I have to do so. I'd feel dishonest otherwise. I should probably also mention that I've never been to see a professional, so I have no diagnosis or anything. It may be I'm just making this all up in my head in a pathetic attempt to justify just how worthless I am.

I can't ever seem to find the energy or motivation to do much of anything. I feel tired all the time, though I know I have no reason to. Moreover, I just have trouble seeing the point in doing most things, and I wish I could explain that feeling better, but I'm not sure how to put it. I've had trouble even motivating myself to get out of bed lately. Trying to sleep the whole day through just seems like an attractive prospect sometimes.

I've always been horrible with people. I guess that comes with being more or less socially isolated for most of your life. I'm afraid of people, and have been for a long time now. I'm afraid of even being seen. I very rarely leave the house.

I mostly just try to forget that I exist with varying amounts of success. I try to find something for my mind to obsess over (you know, something other than how much of a failure I am). When I can daydream about something obsessively, reality seems so far away and irrelevant. I can never distract myself indefinitely, though.

I can't deal with my thoughts sometimes. Thoughts in the form of fears, anxieties, and reminders of just how much of a waste of oxygen I am. I seem to be able to remember every time I failed or disappointed someone, or was just so incredibly inept in general. They just build, and build, and build until they become overwhelming. And I know I have no right to be overwhelmed by this. I deal with scarcely anything compared to what most people have to on a daily basis. But it overwhelms me regardless.

Probably not any surprise, but I think about suicide often. I'd never have imagined I'd have allowed myself to live this long when I was younger. If living is even an accurate description of what I'm doing. Cliché I know, but I just feel like a zombie. Like I died years ago, and all the soul and humanity was drained out of me, but for whatever reason my body just kept on going.

Well, this ended up being unreasonably long. I don't know why I feel the need to do this sometimes. To tell someone how I feel, as if how I feel even matters. I can't even do a good job of it. It always ends up being an overly long, overdramatic, rambly mess like this.