Posted 22nd May 2013 1935

I don’t ever talk about myself. I don’t want anyone to feel sorry for me or pay any extra attention to me. But I honestly can’t take it anymore.

I am so unsatisfied with my life. Do my parents beat me? No. Do I live on the streets? No. Do I have a deathly illness? Did my family die in a car crash? Am I stranded in the middle of no where? No, no and no. My life is not shitty and I’m not claiming it to be. I know people have it a hell of a lot worse and I probably don’t even have a right to complain. But I feel like I might need some serious mental help.

I’m just…unsatisfied. Nothing that happens to me is good enough. I always keep looking for something more. And it freaks me out to think that no matter how bad I want something and no matter how hard I work to achieve it, it won’t happen for me.

I work so hard. I bust my ass every day both at my job, and just living. I do my work and then some at my job because the thought of someone thinking poorly of me is so unacceptable that I will work myself to the point of physical exhaustion just so I can stay on everyone’s good side.

Every day I force the smile that’s on my face. Once again, I don’t like people feeling sorry for me. If I’m not smiling, people will start asking questions and then I’ll have to talk. And I don’t want to because eventually all of this might come out.

I never say no. To anyone for anything. I will do everything within my power to satisfy everyone because I can’t stand the thought of someone disliking me.

Sometimes I wish that something terrible would happen to me. A car accident, cancer…something. I don’t want to die. I just want a fucking break. And if something were to happen to me, at least I’d have an excuse to rest and no one should judge me.

I read book after book and watch movie after movie, just wishing I had someone else’s life. Alternate worlds are really all I think about. All I dream about. What would it like to be happy?

Don’t even get me started on relationships. Why? Because at 20 years old, I’ve never had one. Not saying that I couldn’t have at this point, but the few guys that have expressed even a little interest, I was too suspicious of to do anything about. Obviously if they were interested in me, they had to have an ulterior motive. No one could like me, let alone love me. Nothing exceptional about me. I’m just average.

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