I crave to help and care for others. For living things in general in this world. But there’s always a voice that neglects my wishes to do this. One that tells me I’m being fake for doing nice things. That I don’t know what my own true intentions are when I do things I’d consider to be nice. 

There it is though. Things I’d consider to be nice. I do things that I find to be nice and caring, but does it matter in the end? Because everyone has a different idea of what caring and nice looks like. 

Whenever i finally gain an opportunity to start making money at a job, or participate in an event at school , I procrastinate. I tell myself I’m unworthy of contributing anything meaningful to anything. I take to my bed. My room that was clean yesterday, is now trashed. Because everything moves so fast some days. 

They move so fast that I do things I regret. I say things I wish I never said. I dwell on what could’ve went better in my life. I am unable to move. My chest is piercing. I cry for hours until u feel I’ve got a grip. 

I get up and try to create something, only to be left disappointed by what I’ve created. I spend hours on my phone. Looking at my own photos, obsessing over my boyfriend, scrolling mindlessly. Anything to take this horrid pain of feeling such intense, unmanageable feelings. And no one understands. 

They don’t understand what I need. They dont socially interact with me. I feel as though I’m left to rot. A waste of a soul, of human flesh. A disappointment who can’t function in everyday society. I cry for the woman I could’ve been. If I had a parental figure I could’ve relied on at any point in my life. A strong example to lead through. Who loves me unconditionally. 

I blame it on my race. I’m too white to be connected to anything authentic. I’m fake, a culture vulture. Raised with nothing so I just remain as nothing. I’m trying to parent myself. It is the hardest task in the entire world. How can I accomplish a task that requires two strong people to do properly? 

I feel so lost. Socially distant, for I was never taught how to communicate properly. A bummer to be around. A flake. An everything that is horrible in a person. 

Yet I crave to do something big. I crave a purpose. I crave a life of financial stability, of love, of emotional maturity. But I don’t know where to fucking start.