I've felt alone my whole life. Growing up, my house was violent and I didn't have many friends. I've never had or been a 'best' friend to anyone. I wasn't sure of who I was and I was distinctly aware of that, and still am. I don't know how to differentiate what I like and what I accept. I don't know how to conceptualize myself as a person. I feel like something less than one.

I was in severe pain for most of my life and even now that I'm medicated I still get debilitating flare ups. People don't bother to check up on me anymore. It used to embarrass me when people worried. Now the complete lack of concern sort of feels like a confirmation of my own fears that I live untethered to the world. Yesterday I sat for hours on my bathroom floor and tried to breathe despite my pain and listened to my friends clinking glasses downstairs. I went to my bedroom without saying anything with the trash bin so I didn't hog the restroom. I realized I'd just drag the scene down. The best thing I can be in people's lives is a house. A free lunch. A good employee. A therapist. A fuck. A paid bill. I've tried to talk about it but it usually just ends badly and makes people avoid or chastise me for being a downer. I can't look people in the eyes anymore. I hate every word I've ever said aloud. I hate being known. Living is a thankless job.