Sometimes I feel so alone. There’s a crippling desolation around me even as I hear the sounds of my family downstairs. I didn’t do anything today. I laid on my couch, wrapped up in a blanket to keep out the chill. I wanted to do something, but couldn’t. I wanted to write something beautiful, but there was nothing beautiful around me, not even in my memory. I haven’t talked to my best friend in three days. My conversations with my other best friend are becoming sporadic, huge gaps of silence in between 5-second blights of idiocy. I smile. I feel happy sometimes. But when I’m alone, it sets in. I feel alone because I feel like no one likes me. I tell myself that I don’t care about other people’s opinions, but I at least want someone to think I’m worthwhile. I’ve been close to my friends all year but I haven’t done a thing with them. I go to school and I do nothing. I come home and I do nothing. I could change it, I suppose. Probably. Except…I don’t want to. And it’s the stupidest thing in the world. I am the stupidest human being alive. Worthless. Coward. Hypocritical garbage. What’s the point in living if all I can do is exist?