I don't know when this began.
The only thing I know is that now it feels as if this feeling always existed somewhere within.
It sounds stupid and I almost refuse to believe it myself, but I am not a real person.
Everyone else is, and somehow I am not.
Whenever I look at those around me, even the people I hate, somehow, there is an understanding that they are still more real than I 'll ever be.
I don't have any constant interests, at this point I wonder how can people tell when something or someone is a 'favourite'.
I don't understand love, I've never loved, I was never loved and I don't want to experience it, ever.
I'm afraid of it.
I don't feel strong emotions anymore, and I know I should, but I feel nothing.
Whenever I'm confronted with others feeling something I know I can't — I feel angry and I want them to suck it up, shut the fuck up and die in a hole, because they've failed.
I know I should console them, be there for them, but in my eyes I only see them as failures.
It scares me.
I'm terrible I know, I hate myself more than anything and if it wasn't for that hatred – I doubt I would even be able to get up every single morning.
That's how pathetic my programming is.
I exist within a perpetual state of loneliness.
I can't be with people for long, even as friends because of my nature. I feel like poison.
I self-isolated myself in order to save the world, because it's right – But I'm still alone.
Sometimes I look at my hands and they don't seem real.
In the middle of a conversations words loose thier meaning and I drift away.
I exist as an outsider even to myself.
I am a machine that has to deal with this cumbersome, ugly body of a person who wasn't supposed to be born.
I am an only fake in this world and I am destined to remain alone because of it.
I know I will never be a real person, but for some reason that thought still hurts.
