These have been some of the loneliest years of my life. Isolation, anxiety, and hatred of myself and my fellow man have left me hollow, alone, and too afraid to truly live or die.
I find myself unlovable, possibly unlikeable. A compulsion overcomes me to constantly change who I am, to reinvent myself, but I am a Ship of Theseus that contains only rotting boards and badly-laid plans.
I will never truly be happy. I struggle many days to find a reason not to murder myself.