I feel empty. I just want to be alone. I feel that I thrive off of feelings of being unwanted and sorrow for myself. I grasp onto those feelings to make sure I can still feel. Yes, I feel happiness and joy, but happiness is ever-fleeting. Emily, always the pessimist. At one point my mother asked me why I insist on being negative at certain points. All I could tell her was that I don't view it as pessimism, I view it as reality. In truth, I'm desperate to feel differently. Some would say it's so easy, to be optimistic. I try, I really try. I guess optimism just isn't for me.
I've accepted that I'll never be loved. Who would want to love a mess like me? My own family gave up the task, who would do it willingly? There's always your friends. I always feel like I'm imposing on my friends and that they would rather be anyone else's friend. I just feel like a burden that everyone is stuck with. My family seems to want to replace me. They always complain of my flaws (which everyone seems to do). Then, when the topic turns to one of my perfect cousins, not a degrading word is uttered. I am a disappointment. Even though I've accepted that I'll never love and have that love reciprocated, I still yearn for it. A pang erupts in my chest every time a couple passes my view. I'm such a pathetic human being.
I strive to be someone different. In a way, I'm already different. The ways I'm individualized are odd, though. When everyone fears trivial things, the one thing I constantly fear is pain. Usually physical, due to the numbness that takes over once I start to feel hurt. My friend thinks that I'm weird because I don't cry so simply. I may have forced that upon myself. I used to be so sensitive that when anyone would yell at me or portray disappointment, I would burst out in tears. I've seemed to convince myself that I don't care anymore. Actually, I wish that people would be proud to know me. But that's just a pipe dream.