Love Deprivation Will Kill Me More Than Anything

I could be positive all I want to, love myself all I want to, but I know this loneliness is killing me. Not just emotionally but physically.

I know that I can't rely on people entirely, so it's easier to suffer in silence.

Even thinking about the expectations required for a friendship makes me want to go into a deep, deep sleep.

So many times, by so many people, I've been called selfish when all I've ever tried to do was be a wonderful lover and a wonderful friend.

I really can't respond to people's needs anymore. I can't be the understanding person while I get used and abused.

I'm not gonna force myself to even have hope. All I really want to do is cry endlessly.

If by hope, you mean find little ounces of meaning in an already destitute life, then sure.  If by hope, you mean hope of being loved in any significant, consistent way, then no.

I'm only on chapter 3 of my novel Free, and because of my deep depression about Josh and so forth, this is going to take a lot longer to conjure up any feelings of real happiness. If this novel doesn't get completed in time, I will die here. It is the reason why I'm obsessed with health. I know my trauma and mental illnesses cut my lifespan by a lot. And living in a narcississtic household is the cherry on top.