Is this just fantasy?
It’s a good fucking question.
What is real?
Nothing feels real, or genuine, to me any more. Everything feels like a façade and a pretence, enacted mostly for the benefit of other people – of society. And I’m growing sick. I’m growing tired of it. I’m exhausted now.
People aren’t real, not really. You can no sooner depend on what they say than you can on what they do – they are simply too confusing.
Are my emotions real? Can they really be when they vary so wildly from day-to-day?
Is my love real? Do I really love my partner? Are the problems I see between us real?
Is my pleasure in anything real? Or am I forcing it, because I feel I must? What do I really feel?
Am I real? The person I think I am, is that real? Is the person other people think I am real?
I just don’t know any more. I don’t know. I’m so lost, and so low, and I just want it all to stop, somehow. But nobody understands, and nobody wants to help in the ways I need them to help.