Bleakness

I hate my life. Honestly, it isn't even that the life I live is bad. I feel empty. I feel lost. I feel like I am pointless. I hide it as best I can, but alone, I feel like I'm drowning. I feel like no matter what I do, it doesn't matter. Everything's been gray for a while. All the fun I force myself through, the conversations I barely keep an ear on because I can't focus my attention pretty much ever, the smiles and laughter I fake...it works sometimes. It gets me through, a little more refreshed than I was before. It never feels right.

I'm trying to be less of a burden. I know that I'm not very good at it, hell, I'm a fucking bitch who doesn't do things very well at all. I don't bring up the bad days, and I do my damndest to not be a drag. Most days, I even do that poorly. Tonight, I'm just laying here crying. I don't even know why.

Fuck this. Just.......fuck it. I don't even know why I'm writing, apart from that it normally helps when I am alone and confused. But, not this time. I don't feel anything but scared, and I'm terrified, even though when asked about it, I'm going to say it was no big deal, just a bad night, because I don't want to talk about it, because it won't help at all. It hasn't helped to talk, and it doesn't help to sleep, and right now, it doesn't help to write.

I'm going to ignore it for now, and maybe I will want to talk about it later. I just.....hoped that this would help.