• I just sit there, watching them. The have fun, they enjoy each others presence. They don’t want me there. At least not for my presence. They want me there for their needs. For what I can do for them. Cook, clean, wash, and repeat. That’s what they want me there for. I don’t even feel loved anymore. If I ever did that is. I guess at one time I felt the love they show each other. When they are together they laugh, play and talk.
    When I come near. Nothing. It’s like I’m the plague. Laughter stops, playfulness ends, talking dies. I can’t even stay in the same room when it’s like that. I feel down and depressed. Like I don’t belong. In fact, I feel I don’t belong anywhere. They don’t treat me as a friend. They treat me as service. That’s what I feel like. Service. A worker that is sent from place to place to work for others.
    Everyone treats me that way. I don’t feel loved anywhere. Only needed. Not the needed you want to feel. The needed where they should be paying you, but you do it all for free because you live there. I always feel like ending it. Like taking a knife and plunging it into my chest, or cutting my wrist and wait for the blood to drain. Jumping off a cliff, or building and waiting to feel that welcoming ground take me. I can’t go anywhere with them without feeling my own need to end it tearing at me. I truly want to do it. But I always stop myself. I look at them and feel that twinge. I love them.
    I don’t know why, but I truly love them and I can’t do it. I may not feel loved by them but I know they feel the love I have for them. I show it every day. I run around cooking for them, cleaning for them, washing for them. I do it all just to try and feel that feeling I know they feel from me. At times, I just burst and the anguish and pain I feel toward them covers up my love tightly and comes out as anger. I try not to take it out on them. But I do take it out on myself. I thought about ending it more when I burst. I don’t like losing control of my feelings. I hurts. Mentally and physically.
    I don’t like the pain. It feels normal, but it doesn’t feel right. When I feel like that the only thing I can do is go to my room and lock the door. Behind my door, I let my anguish and pain out. I cry, as hard as I can. I try to let it all out, but is never really leaves fully. It just dies down and goes to the recesses that are not seen, to build up again. It will always be there. There is to much pain in my existence to get rid of it. When I’m at my happiest someone always find some way to knock my happiness away. It’s like I’m the last one to deserve happiness.
    I can’t even eat or sleep sometimes. I feel to depressed to even try. I don’t have friends I can touch. That can hold me so I feel like eating or sleeping. My friends are all invisible. I may see a few of them, but they’re never real. They’re only in my mind. My friends were created by me, for me. They’re someone I can at least feel cares for me the way I want to be cared for. I take on different persona when I talk to my friends, I become a completely different person.
    Sometimes I’m the exact opposite of what I truly am. But, when I have to come out of my room, real life comes crashing back into me. I feel the pain again, the anguish. The loneliness that I felt for the longest time comes back to me. I feel I die a little each day. The loneliness is to much to bare. I feel I’m on an island alone. Without comfort. Without nutrition. Without love. I’m alone and that’s how I feel I’ll always be. The characters I create live the lives I want. They live in a world that I created for them. A world they can be loved in. Where they can have their presence enjoyed by others. I’ve created over a thousand characters. Each with their own family. Their own friends. Their own lives that they live. Some are friends with other characters I’ve made. But, I will always be alone. Never be able to live the life I wish I could. I will always be an outcast.