I don’t know what to do anymore. I feel so alone. Last night I had an amazing dream that I was with this beautiful girl and was truly happy. I was then struck with the harsh reality of waking up to a shitty Monday in my moldy, run-down dorm room. I want to blow my fucking skull apart but I’m too much of a bitch to do it. It’s just like everything else I do. I’m too lazy and undisciplined to actually do anything with my life. People tell me I just need confidence. How the fuck do I get confidence? I’m everything the opposite of a perfect man. I’m short, fat, asthmatic, volatile, weak physically and mentally. I’m tired of the bullshit lies I’m constantly fed. I sometimes express my frustrations of being overweight with my best friend who tells me “you’re not fat, your just a heavy gunner.” Of course it’s meant to be a compliment and I’m not fishing for compliments, but it’s a damn lie. I’m a fatass. I’m not handsome, I’m a homely guy with a massive, ugly head. I’m not insecure, or maybe I am, but I’m in touch with reality. All of this could probably be made up for with a good personality but I don’t even have that. I’m an unfunny, asshole who is depressed. I have no actual personality, or maybe it’s hidden under the 10,000 masks I wear that correspond with who I’m talking to. One mask is the perfect Christian boy that my parents wish they had. One is the token nerd in a group of jocks. Another one is the progressive Christian guy with my friends on campus. Back at home I’m the fat funny guy with my highschool friends. I just want to feel loved, my actual self, not these masks I wear. But how can someone love a personality that I’m not even sure exists.

Lets move on to another shitty aspect of me. I am a fat, lazy sack of shit. I am so undisciplined that I can’t even go a week without some kind of dessert. I come up with all of these ideas to lose weight and workout, but it never comes to fruition. I can’t even get myself to eat less. My parents jokingly call me a trash can because I will eat what they don’t finish. I can’t even keep up with my academics. I am a horrible procrastinator who won’t do work until the deadline. I lie to my parents whenever they ask me what my grades are like. I just tell the “I have A’s and B’s” when in reality I’m barely managing to hold onto C’s. 

I would’ve probably killed myself years ago if I wasn’t an only child. I feel like I at least owe my family to try and keep myself alive. I feel like a cosmic fluke. In all reality I shouldn’t exist. I’m a “miracle” baby although I’d call it being damned to have to raise a sack of shit like me. I wish my sister could’ve been the one to have a shot at life instead of me. Sadly though, I was given the burden of being my parents only living child. Maybe it isn’t so bad, she gets to spend an eternity in paradise while I am down here on this piece of shit rock. I just wish I could die in some accident so the burden of suicide isn’t on the people I love and care about, but I’m still able to relieve myself of the burden of living. 

People say things get better, but it feels like the slow, painful march to the grave for me.