Feeling low

I had such a good day yesterday. I felt like I’d hit a turning point, like I rounded a bend and was ready to turn things around. Then today came and I crashed out of nowhere. I feel the worst I have in such a long time. I feel alone, expendable, uninteresting. No one takes anything beyond a tenuous, almost obligatory interest in my life. I could disappear tomorrow and I don’t think anyone would notice. I’m like comfort food—a temporary indulgence that will be inevitably discarded. All of my life I fantasized about being someone other than myself. I immerse myself in books so, even if just for a little while, I can feel what it feels like to be someone other me. Someone who’s loved. Someone that people want to know about. Someone who can walk into a room and the smiles don’t disappear. I used to think my tolerance for solitude was like a superpower, but I never imagined I’d be facing life alone like this. I’m scared that this is how it’ll always be. I don’t think it does get better with time. I’m just hurting a lot. To quote a book I enjoyed: “Happiness is only real when shared.” Thank you for reading.