With each day I become more and more convinced that nobody will ever understand me. I feel like an outsider. I feel like an alien. I feel like a ghost. I always have. I'm here... but I'm not really here. I'm just something that gets in peoples' way and uses up valuable oxygen. After thirty-four years, I'm still unable to relate to just about everything other people talk about: children, brothers, sisters, friends, pets, weddings, houses, careers, college life, parties, clubs, high school romances, proms, summer breaks, etc, etc, etc, etc... These concepts are all completely foreign to me. They always have been. I'm not sure I belong in this world. Even crying. Fucking crying. Another thing that I can't relate to. I have no doubt that anyone who reads this will dismiss this entire rant as a simple pity-party. And maybe it is. But it's also exactly how I feel. And nobody truly knows how I feel because the world doesn't revolve around me. Only my world does. And my world is damaged.
Another thing nobody really knows about me is that I spend most of my life pretending. When others tell me about things, I pretend that I care about and understand their dilemmas. Most of the time, I barely even know what the fuck they're talking about. But I pretend anyway. My brain often doesn't work correctly. When someone asks me a question, my mind goes blank and it makes me feel stupid. Even if I know the answer. I never know what to say. And that makes me feel even more stupid.
I wish I could just cry like everyone else to get this frustration out of my head, but I can't. Instead, it continues to plague my brain like a cancer.
I'm still looking, but so far I haven't found the cure.