Lonely.

Disordered or not, in the end, that one fact doesn't ever seem to change. I never find anybody to whom I can connect on that deepest, most intimate level. I try to fool myself -- I try to assure myself that these less-deep connections I have forged with others is adequate enough -- but after awhile of having the connections I do, my mind and heart start to branch out and want more. Greed, I can only suppose. Only -- is it a greed that is essential to being fulfilled? If I never fulfill it, will I actually be able to continue on living life as if it is actually okay?

I feel like if I talk about disordered things, it will break me inside. As if by telling you I am destroying whatever was inside me that wanted me to do those things. And yet I feel like I'm not actually disordered at all if that can happen. I'm just some poseur going through the motions at yet another ludicrously stupid attempt to fit in.

The fact is, I just don't fit in. Anywhere. Not fully; not completely. I'm like a piece of the puzzle that has edges missing, or that isn't quite the right shape. I can squeeze in, or plop myself down; but either way, I don't fit the way I am supposed to. There is always something askew. And I don't think this is ever, ever going to change. That's just the way things are and have always been, and I can't see why in the future they will be any different. So why do I even try at all? I don't know. I guess I'm a bit terrified that if I don't try, I'll go back to anything or everything that I did before, and I was so tired of all that shit. Even now, I am tired of it. And yet part of me really wants it back so, so badly.

Why must I be stuck continually in limbo? I can't even get angry about it, because true anger within me seems to have died. I think I am just afraid of it -- afraid of what will happen to me if I do get angry. Right now this almost makes me want to provoke it, to try and make myself go back to disorders. I'm just that fucking desperate and sad and motherfucking STUPID that I WANT to give myself something that other people have for years or decades and would do anything to discard.

The problem is, those people probably have the ability to really, truly fit in wherever their natural niches are when they're not disordered. And I... don't seem to. So maybe I am not them, and don't have to be them. Maybe I can forcibly shove myself back into a disorder, and maybe I can spend my life as a fucking nutcase, and maybe then I don't have to face the fact that wherever I go, I'm never actually right, and it is always awkward, and I am always, essentially, alone.

I'm the biggest fucking idiot on the face of the planet.