More, again

I just want to take a moment to vent.

I am sad. Disappointed, and angry at myself. I never seem to fall for guys I have any chance of being with.

Another crush, probably the most powerful one I've had in a decade has resulted in the truth of the futility of my feelings being made plain again.

Why am I even trying?

My actions proving pointless endeavors, accomplishing not my goals, but yet more cruel torture.

I am having a hard time coping with these feelings. I dare not allow myself to feel them, doing so would thus crush me, destroy me as I would lose what little good I have somehow stockpiled. My endeavors of freedom from debt would vanish as I would become unable to move, much less work.

I dare not numb these feelings, either. To do so will again slay the connection to my emotions. Something hard fought to forge after so many years of practiced avoidance of them.

I desire to scream "please, someone save me", but it would serve no purpose. I desire to yell at the world "someone love me!", but again nothing would be gained.

How am I able to function at all, as broken as I've become? I am less than human. I am less than alive, yet not dead.

My survival rote and I nothing more than a recording, playing back what I have practiced.

This darkness slices through my chest, and all the love, the light, the joy, all the good in my life disappears.

Even telling my family makes no difference. Telling my friends is no more than selfishly burdening them with my problems. They are powerless to help. So why share this pain with them when they hold not the cure?

I want to cry. I want to be held in a warm embrace and be told how desirable I am. I want to be reassured that love is not a pipe dream.

Instead, I lie in the darkness of my room, in a bed that is cold and empty except for myself. In the darkness, all alone, I bask in the emptiness in my heart. The place I so desperately want to fill with love for someone else, festering in my heart. My soul cries out agony in a small whimper. Too damaged to even yell any longer.

I just want someone to look at me. Nobody ever looks at me.
Why can't people see me?
Why have I become invisible?
Have I ever existed?

I will just shut up. Nobody cares about these problems anymore and even if they did, the people who care can do nothing to help. And the people who could help have no reason to do so. They do not see me, and those who see what they think of as me do not see me as desirable.

There is no point. Love is a hopeless endeavor. Should I be fortunate enough one day to be proven wrong I shall rejoice. For now, I've naught but to languish in this festering pain of disconnection and worthlessness.

I hope this pain I endure makes someone happy, as happiness is something I dare not expect to feel again.