I think Iβm always going to be alone. not like in a physical sense; Iβll always have people around meβor vice versa. But Iβm never going to be what anyone really wants. I canβt even decipher what I want among all the aching I canβt run from.
I donβt know why I am the way I am. Most things hurt in some way and I have to fight through that to find any joy in life. I didnβt ask for these pains, and yet they ride everywhere with me. They are an inconvenience for others; for me, a disability.
Iβve lost years of my life to them and will continue to until itβs over. Exhausted from pity, from confusion, from disappointment, from misunderstanding. Exhausted from insecurity, from tears, from the endless space drawn out inbetween.