Apparently "I'm fun".

The people dancing around me don't realize that the reason I'm 'fun' is because I've secretly downed 5 vodkas earlier to numb the overwhelming feeling of loneliness which, even in this crowded room, threatens to overwhelm me. So I drown myself in alcohol instead. Even though I know there'll be hell to pay tomorrow. There always is with mood swing whiskey.

Looking around the utter pointlessness of it all sends shivers down my spine. I am temporarily happy in the haze of a drunken hour. On the dance floor an attractive woman dances, surrounded by men like the petals of a sordid daisy flower. One by one, the men wilt away. She loves me not. She loves me not. She loves me not. She loves me not. Only one remains. She loves him? She loves him not. That doesn’t stop them leaving together after a few minutes. Later that night he will awake from his post-coital slumber to the sound of her crying in the bathroom because she doesn't love herself either. He'll slip out quietly. They are both destined to remain alone.

Meanwhile I return home alone after disappointing a girl who has a crush on me. I know I have hurt her feelings. I hate myself for that. I hate that my hating myself has led to my hating myself even more. I hate that I hate myself without even the slightest sense of self-humor. There’s that much hate in the room. I cannot put things in perspective. If I could bottle this and capture it on CD I’d be rich.

I greet my neighbor who has just woken for his morning fix of jogging and endorphins. I fall asleep crying. I dream of someone giving me a hug and wake with a start, crying. I stay inside for the next three days listening to The Smiths. Toby take a bow. Is it still light outside? Endless knowledge of musical trivia won't give me the answer. After a week I venture a look see.

"Where have you been?” friends ask. "Busy", I lie. Meanwhile I have managed to mask my utter hopelessness with cynicism and humor. Life is a joke, but the joke is on me. I am slowly alienating those around me.

Three months later I cut off the last of my friendships. I have burnt all bridges behind me. This always coincides with an increase in suicidal thoughts.

Four months later I am drained and apathetic. I've stopped drinking. I no longer want to kill myself. Life is still empty. It is time to make some new friends for so long as I don't despise the human race and myself. Hey, on the bright side I’m not a total hypocrite. Am I?

I'm still not sure if I'm depressed or if this is just how I am.

Am I misanthropy taken to its logical conclusion?

Am I just a pretentious idiot whose use of vocabulary has isolated him from the real world so that he is now choking like a vacuum packed sandwich?

No. The real reason I am isolated is because I'm afraid of getting hurt. My isolation doesn't protect me, it hurts me even more. I am stuck in a vicious cycle.