Here’s the truth. The most awful (but still) truth: I’m a fucking lame-ass weirdo. I’m a sick person. No one can stand me, and for the record, I can’t barely stand anyone either. So, it’s not even like I’m one of those disgusting persons who at least try to make it up for being so repugnant, by being nice, intelligent or kind. No, I’m a total waste. I don’t love or care about anybody and I’m probably never gonna fall in love in my life, the same way no one it’s ever gonna be able to truly love me. That’s just impossible, IT-FUCKING-IS!!
I’m never gonna meet anyone good enough, and even if I do, I’m not going to be good enough for the person.
My destiny it’s to be and rot alone. Don’t know how it got to this point, but it got there for sure. I’m such a loser that I don’t even think I have the guts to end it all myself. Though suicide would be a more deigned way to leave this world.
But I guess I’ll just have to face the fact that I won’t ever have a family and I’ll die alone. Not even my pets will stand me.
I don’t even know why I wasted my time writing all of this depressive shit…
Especially when my empty head hurts so bad.