I’m ready to die. I’m not at a point anymore where I think I can bring myself to do anything about it. But I’m ready. Every day is as miserable as the last and finding a reason to live is an issue given up on. I don’t think I will ever find happiness. I don’t think I will ever love someone. Every morning I make it out of bed feels like a miracle. Every moment I’m looking for an escape. Or a way to get out of everything that I’ve building into a life and start over. But I’ve done that twice… And it always ends the same. I’ll never change, or be better, or figure it out. Some days it’s like my brain is buried in a grave and my body is just here, going through the mundane motions of a normal zombie human. I don’t know how to have fun. All I know is how to avoid people, and put on the fake face. But even my fake face is lacking, because I don’t truly know how to talk to anyone, because I don’t relate to anyone. I’ve never belonged here. I don’t fit in.