It’s that feeling you get. that feeling that you’re completely alone despite what anyone says. It’s that feeling that you’ll always be with yourself. And that everyone is temporary, despite them convincing you otherwise. It’s like being in a crowded room, a sea full of people and everyone talks to you, but you know there’s a part of you that can’t be filled. That this little void will always remain what it is void and empty. It’s not that they don’t care. They do care. some of them at least but no matter what, that emptiness still lingers. And you’re not sure what to do, except feel that way. And drunken nights with a stranger just wont help you anymore. Because those drunken nights only remind you of what’s missing. They leave a bigger emptier deeper hole. And at the end of it all, you feel like crap.
I can’t make you make me love me, if you don’t. I feel alone. Completely and insignificantly alone. Unbearably and selfishly alone. and scared. and in desperate need of help but too fucking proud to admit it. I’m weak and disoriented. I’m an emotional wreck, he said.