It's All Happening

Its all changing, isn't? This. Its all changing, and I can't stop it. Its moving so quickly. But the worst part is that this has been in the making for years, and I have been the architect the whole time. But what do I have to complain about? I'm a smart young man, I'm told. I'm the first to go to college. I haven't ruined my life (though I feel like it at every moment). I have kept everything a secret. All you see is what I show you. But, its not very much.
Ask my friends, and they'll tell you nothing is wrong. Ask my sister, and she'll tell you its because I'm so frustrated and bottled up. Oh, mama. But that isn't even the correct answer. Oh! It's just a part. But what does satisfaction mean to the individual; the individual whom must follow specifics and rules, rather than the whimsical and intuition? To remain bottled up, is just a part. I can't ever be myself, and when I am its me being dumb and stupid. Maybe going to my room for the rest of the night will calm me down.
My friends, they're changing at the rate of their body chemistry allows, and I'm too slow. I won't catch up. Just wait! Don't leave me or go until I'm comfortable to stand on my own. I'm too weak, but you wouldn't know. I don't what you to know. I need you. I don't want you to leave. Why doesn't anyone see that this is all my fault? Say you need me! That you don't want to leave! Just--its all me. So please stay and don't change.
Its happening. Its all my fault. I never told any of you how I really felt or who I really am. Its all over, I guess. It must be. Things will never be the same. Goodbye.