This reality is wearing my soul thin, eventually the fabric of my very being will tear. 

Real life sucks. You wake up, you eat, you work, and you go back to sleep; you wait for the free moments you'll use to distract yourself from the majority of the life that you hate. Fantasy has always been my escape, the source of all my joy in this life; I know its not healthy, but its all I have.

Every night I pray to a god that I'm not even sure I believe exists that I will find myself whisked away at last to some unfathomably different reality, as an entirely different being than I am now; one that has the traits of the characters of the fantasy worlds, the movies and books and games, that I so desperately try to lose myself in.  The confidence, happiness, the ability to make friends, anxiety levels that don't make every moment of life difficult. 

I dream of the worlds that feel foreign in every way. And I am sad to know I will never experience them. 

And as I get older, even those fantasies become fewer and fewer. The distractions less and less such that all I can do is look this horrid reality in the face and know that I will have to bear it for much longer still. 

About 20 years I've borne it thus far and I have at least that much longer to go. And in those next 20 or more years, I'll have fewer of the distractions that have helped me manage thusfar; the magical memories of my childhood, as close to the fantasies I dream of as this reality ever got, will fade ever more. There will be nothing left to comfort me. 

I will be alone, literally and spiritually, in a reality which I feel I don't belong for a very long time. It feels as if it may as well be eternity because there seems to be no end in sight, its all I've known and will know. 

Plucked from the void of nonexistence for this.