I realised that I was lying to myself. I loved my family, my friends, myself, or so I tried to convince myself. They could die for all I could care. I’m pretending to love my parents because I need financial support to eat, sleep and survive. I pretend to love my brother because that’s the norm. I have friends because loners aren’t accepted by society.
I sometimes imagine telling this to someone and wonder how they’ll react. Will they be shocked, disgusted, feel betrayed or maybe find it unbelievable? Like any cliché, I do hope (however fictional and unreal) that one day someone will make me feel better.
Why go through the trouble if I don’t like it? Well, I don’t want to be left alone. I’m selfish and I don’t know how to explain my emotions. This is not love and I need therapy. But I don’t mind if I’m mentally ill. Even if it is exhausting, I will pretend to be a proper functioning human forever.
I can write down my feelings, never to be seen, only to suppress them. Maybe I’ll read it in future but what’s the point.
I will cry myself to sleep and don’t even know the reason. Maybe I find myself to be pathetic but there’s nothing new in that because it’s always been the same.