I sleep too much

My brother says I sleep too much. "You wake up, go to school, then come home and sleep." You know why I sleep so much? It's because I'm so damn tired. All the time.

I'm tired of my life seeming so empty and meaningless. I'm tired of being bored all the time. I'm tired of feeling like my actions hold no significance whatsoever. I'm tired of not feeling real, of not feeling human. I'm so tired of watching others around me go by and just be okay. Why can't I be like that? Why do I have to be different?

I envision the life I want and it all seems like fantasy. I'm so used to this. So used to being frustrated. Alone. Misunderstood. Left out. Isolated. I'm not blaming others. No, most of the time I choose not to be in the company of others because I can't get what I need from available social interaction.  I can talk to people, be around them, but why when it all feels so empty, so superficial? That doesn't help me. It can bandage things for a while, keep my bleeding soul together just enough to function, as it does in school, but I am alone. My best friend can't speak. My best friend is a cat. 

How can things be different? How can I even dare to imagine a life in which I am happy, in which I have meaningful relationships with PEOPLE, in which I can be as free as the air and as light as a feather? I hardly expect good things to happen anymore. Some part of me knows I'm going to college next year. Some part of me really believes it'll be the one I really want to go to as well. But I dare not let that make me happy, because right now it doesn't change anything. 

I want to tear my hair out and scream, I am so frustrated.  When my depression doesn't completely debilitate me, I throw myself into my schoolwork like lives depend on it. And maybe they do. It's all I have, all that I really have, as mine, to connect to, to fool me into thinking I'm doing something worthwhile. Something that will better me and therefore better the world.  I wouldn't be surprised if it's all a gimmick though. It's hard to get me to believe or trust anything or anyone anymore.

Love? What the hell is that? I can't see myself being in love. Love is for people. I'm not a person. I'm just me, and I don't know what that means. I love ideas, not people. I think this is because I am an idea as well. I'm not a cat, but I love mine. He keeps me connected to life, and reminds me that I am living, and existing in a world in which others are also alive.

Words, words, words. That's what people throw at me. I don't know if it's because they think they'll heal me, or if it's instinctual, or if they just don't know what else to do. I love words, but they are abused. Misused. I comb through everything I hear and see and I can detect emptiness. Even when it's not implied, so many words are empty to me, because they just don't hit me. They don't affect me. They don't help me. You try to help me, but you don't. And I feel myself at fault, because I know I have people that care about me. It doesn't matter. I am still alone. You can't tell me I'm not because you don't know. You are not me.

Where are you, others, of my kind? Am I to believe I really am as alone as I feel? Do others accept existing without being? Are they aware of not being? Or does their unawareness of not being allow them to be? I want to see where this will take me. I want to see something good come out of this head and life which goes through so much pain and conflict.  I want to believe there's a silver lining to these grey, grey clouds. 

How can I, of all people, be so different? I'm not that special. I'm just me. We're told contradicting things, growing up. You're special. No, you're just like everyone else. No you really are special and unique. What am I? Where am I? Why do I have to feel like this? Can I just have an answer, and be left alone, with my work and my cat? I'd be content if it weren't for these impressions of doubt and void. I don't need much. I don't ask for much. I just want to be okay.  I don't want to just function, exist, 70% of the time, in whatever small way one defines functioning.  I want to through and through, every cell, be okay. OK. Okay.