A letter from Jul 11, 2022

Dear FutureMe, I don't know what's up with me today. I swore I'd never think about suicide but suddenly the idea holds appeal. I don't like it. Never in my 24 years have I ever thought this way. Yet here we are. I feel like nobody besides mom loves me, but she's far away. It's like a dark cloud is hovering over my head, tempting me with the notion of eternal sleep. Imagine never feeling hurt that nobody cares enough to reach out. Imagine people never having to misunderstand your intentions. Imagine people being okay that you're extremely introverted and socially awkward— that's something that I feel people are judging me for. But when will they realise that the confident and happy me is actually a mask I wear so people don't think I have the personality of a potato? Why is it okay for guys to be dark and broody, yet I'm considered snobbish? I'm not nice. I'm not friendly. I'm not good at making small talk. Why? I want someone to know that I'm not okay without me having to say it. If I go to my room when everyone is eating together, why doesn't someone ask me if I want to join? When I'm not talking when everyone is having a conversation, why doesn't someone ask me what's wrong instead of just giving me a look and leaving me alone? It makes me feel like a monster. Like it's not okay to not be okay. Like it's such a burden that I'm feeling sad.