Helpless

P.S- Even talking about it won't help. Who is trustworthy.. who -really- understands?

I am not okay.
My mind makes something out of nothing all the time.
When everything is going right, I feel so much necessity to be happy and thankful I end up making myself miserable, knowing the joy won't last. I always wonder my worth, and sadly my mind makes me believe I always deserve less.
When someone does something nice for me, I always feel the need to pay them back instantly, I end up feeling guilty, like I shouldn't be getting random acts of kindness when I haven't done something for the person in the first place or at all.
I am not okay and that is about the only thing I am sure of.
I let myself down, I bring myself down.
Every time I was shut down the sadness at that moment formed a small part of who I am. I was so much stronger, until day after day every exciting idea or thought I ever had started fading into the background, because of everyone else, that now every time the concept of trying to have fun crosses my mind, something in me rejects it, leaves it behind, burns in down.
I am not okay, and I will keep saying it until I realize it's a problem.
Fear rules the world I am supposed to be the queen of, and I am imprisoned, nothing is in my control anymore.
I unintentionally always end up thinking things are going to get ruined, or I am going to mess things up.
And I know whatever you believe in takes place, and I know what should be done, and I know how I should think, and I know what's important, and that is the problem.
There isn't anything I am missing. There isn't anything more I need to know. There isn't so much more I can do for myself. There isn't anything I'd want anyone to do for me. 
I was excited, I always looked forward to build myself, to become somebody, somebody I appreciate. Somebody that I can rely on.
But I was let down. I let myself down and slowly piece by piece of me was stolen, and I was left with the ashes and dust of what I thought I'd become.
I toss and turn every single night wondering how I could have done things differently, and sadly I don't think there was much I could do for myself.
I was helpless, I am helpless, and I am thinking I probably will always be helpless.
"Sad" has now become part of my true personality, and as much as I try to push it away, as much as I act in any other way, it will always be true, and I will always know it for sure.
There is not so much I can do, and I can only hide behind that hyper jumpy weird smiley version of me for so long before everyone starts to see truly how fed up I am.

My mind is very slowly and softly killing me, it's a helpless, hidden, acceptable form of suicide, but the suffering is more.