Depression

Sometimes i believe the only thing keeping me alive is the sheer fact of not wanting to destroy the realities of those around me; my friends who are innocent enough to believe nothing so terrible could happen to someone they've known for so long, someone who has laughed, and smiled, and been happy. My father; who has worked tirelessly to support our family, who has always believed in me, whose unspoken affection mean more than any words. All those around me who believe i am happy and grounded, i am alive for their innocence. Although i am surrounded by a constant rush of people, a certain loneliness paralyzes me. The hours i spend alone. the hours where nobody calls. the hurt that goes unnoticed. But i cant blame them. Only myself for the way i am. this constant pain of loneliness. I don't hate who i am, but i hate that i am not who i am. that i am afraid, quiet, inferior to who i want to be. i cant take this-loneliness. because nobody knows the real me.