Most of the time, I feel unloved.
I have long since accepted that I am unlovable, that I am not worthy of someone else’s affection and time. I am not worthy of any effort. I am an extremely mediocre human being whose only salvation might be death (or taking lots of depression naps, which is basically the same thing).
The truth is, I’m screwed up twelve ways ’til Sunday.
I’m damaged goods. Everything I do, whether it’s unintentional or through self-fulfilling prophecy, I inevitably fuck up. I cry too much, and I always get anxious for no logical reason. I overthink constantly, sifting through the bits and pieces of my relationships to figure out what I’m doing wrong and when people will leave me.
To be unlovable is a lonely thing.
I know myself best, so I see all my flaws and know all my dirty secrets. Opening up to people is difficult for me because I can’t imagine who would want to deal with all that psychological crap that’s been in my head for years.
I can’t undo the damage that’s been dealt to my self-esteem. I’ve tried and I can’t get the hang of it. Perhaps it’s time to hang the hat and give up on trying to see myself in a good light.