…But I call it reality.

For as long as I can remember, I have been telling myself that I was meant to be alone forever. This may seem awkward to you, but to me it’s all I know, being alone. I was born alone, I have lived alone, and I will probably die alone – though in the end we all do.

See, it seems that what I want and what I can have live in two different worlds. Truth is, they do. And all my life I have told myself that this is how things are, and I have tried to change it but it’s always just how things are. And it hurts. There are not enough words, even if appropriate ones, to describe what I mean here.

I want a family, and a prospect of it has kept me going all this time. But now I know that’s probably never going to happen. The reason is that I can’t bring all this to someone else’s life. My parents did it to me, and I am not going to do it to someone else. I have never had a “safe place,” and I can’t make someone it; I don’t want to. But I know that’s what would end up happening. And the worse part is that I can no longer even be sure that I really do love someone, because even if I think I do I keep second guessing myself.

Now I understand my mom’s reaction better; she still sees him in everything. There is no way to shake that, huh?