Things are not going to plan in my life. Why have I not fallen in love yet? Why do I always get screwed over? When is this all going to end? This place that I'm at, it's not where I'm meant to be and loneliness is making it harder for me to distinguish between the genuinely good-hearted souls out there from the total and utter fuckwits. I have had lovers but never a true love. I envy all my friends who have been with their SOs since before they lost their very innocences together. I deserve to make like a whiney cliche because I have never ever admitted to anyone the true depth of my loneliness and sorrow before now. Even my closest and dearest friend, who I tell all my most deepest thoughts and feelings to, does not know the true extent of how often I dwell on the matter. Isn't it the norm for people to fall in love and discover their lifelong partners whilst in their university years? I have never even had a childhood sweetheart and my uni days will be drawing to a close. I'm not a freak (although I wouldn't have a problem with being one, after all, I felt like a freak at school just because I'd never kissed anyone on the lips when I was 14 years old. Some people even regard being labelled a freak as a compliment). I'm not stupid either, although not smart enough to be a geek (how is it that being a geek is suddenly the epitome of coolness?). I'm not ugly because I do get attention sometimes, although I'm not really a babe either. So what is it? Is it because I'm too honest? Too naive? Does telling the truth scare people off? Is it because when they finally get hold of that attractive looking present that's all wrapped up in ribbon and shiny paper that they realise that the toy inside is only of average quality and then it turns out to be broken anyway? Do I have desperation and insecurity written all over me? Is it wrong to want to feel loved and wanted and to tell that person that this is what you want from them? I think I have answered my own questions here.
I wish, I wish I knew what I wish. To feel normal. Why can't I feel how people assume that I'm feeling. Why am I so good at pretending that everything is alright and that I don't have a care in the world? I'm young, bright, free and single with the world at my feet. Really? When the tiniest of things make me want to break down and cry? I do get mood swings; on the good days I wonder what all the fuss was about because life is great: in the physical sense I'm not being abused or starved or anything. I've not even experienced anything as traumatic as a death or bloodshed first hand. But then the other days, which outnumber the former by far, I think to myself, "this is hell". To be mentally and emotionally hurt/frightened/confused/ETC is horrible. And worse when you can't pinpoint why.
I wish I knew what my niche is in life. What do I want out of it? What do I have to give? I wish religion meant something to me other than it being the most common reason for war. I wish I had someone I could talk to about all of this stuff. I wouldn't mind feeling scared and fucked up and all the rest if I had someone there to comfort me sometimes. To give me a hug and tell me none of it matters so much.