My Loneliness Will Be The Death Of Me.I'm 22 years old. I've never had a girl interested in me and I've never had many friends. I was never even remotely popular in school. I'm severely depressed, was diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome, and have been on medication for most of my life.
I met my best friend in high school. (I was sent to a private high school after I went to a public school and had a borderline abusive teacher, not to mention tons of bully issues.) We would hang out about once a month, trading off whose house we would go to. We got along great, and I looked forward to it every month. After all, he was the only guy in the area that I considered a friend. This went on for about 4 years after we graduated.
Last September, we took a trip to Seattle together to go to Penny Arcade Expo. We both paid for our own plane tickets, and dutched the room bill and the meals. As far as I could tell, we had a good time, although he admitted that he didn't enjoy it as much as I did. There were some misadventures, of course. I wanted to go to two different meetups and both of them turned out to be busts. While we were in the terminal on the way home, he said that he wouldn't do it again because he thought "it was too expensive for what you got."
I sent him an email the next month, asking him how he was doing. His response was brief and something along the lines of "Busy with school, clubs, and figuring **** out." I haven't heard from him since. He won't return emails or calls, he deactivated his Facebook profile and removed me from his Skype contacts. I have accepted the fact that I will likely never hear from him again.
My only other two friends are both thousands of miles away on the other side of the country, one in Pennsylvania, one in New Jersey. (I live in California.) I only really speak to one of them because I don't know the other's work schedule and he's a very busy guy. The one I talk to will not meet up with me because she can't afford to come out here and won't let me help her with it because of something related to her ex.
I am cripplingly lonely. Today, I walked six miles round trip to make an unannounced visit to an old co-worker just so I could have someone to talk to. I couldn't tell if I was bothering him or not, but he talked to me for a while and I felt better for about an hour. It was the first time I had a meaningful conversation with someone that wasn't my therapist or psychatrist in a face-to-face setting since September. And now January's almost over.
People don't even look at me. It's almost like I don't even exist. I am acknowledged when it is convenient for them. When they want something. And I inevitably do whatever it is they want because I want their approval.
Last Saturday, I got up the courage to talk to my long-time crush and ask her out for lunch. She seemed receptive to the idea at the time, so I gave her my number. Looking back on it, I realized that I likely annoyed her and I am not expecting a call.
I've never caught a girl looking at me. Not surprising. I'm overweight and not overly attractive. Not hideous, but I don't stand out in any way. I get attached to people easily, especially girls. Of course, whenever that happens, I get a faint glimmer of hope that maybe this will be the one. Inevitably, I find out that they're taken or otherwise uninterested.
My self-esteem is practically nonexistant. I feel completely inferior to all others. I can't remember a time I felt happy or loved. There are days where I feel stable, but often I find myself longing for love and companionship. And on those days, I wish I could just close my eyes and die. I find that I have been romanticizing death a lot recently, and how happy I'd be to die in the arms of someone I loved. I understand though that even if I do eventually die (which I'm starting to doubt will ever happen), I will do so alone.
There are two things that keep me alive. Three if you count lack of effort in trying to kill myself. The first is my spirituality. I'm a spiritualist and feel that my suicide would deeply disappoint the people that know me on the other side. On my more cynical days, I question if these people even exist. The other reason is that I don't want to traumatize my mother. She is already beginning to fray a bit, and I feel my death would send her over the edge. I don't want her to suffer because of something I did.
And so I continue living. Not because I want to, but because I have nothing better to do. I feel that I will be alone eternally and, should I ever die, few will mourn my passing.