What I'm not okay with is seeing people care only when shit hits the fan.

I believe it's most people's default attitude to see oneself as a whole, level individual. I don't have that luxury. My head is brimming with thoughts of how flawed, how ugly and how miserable of a person I am. On some level, I want to believe them, 'cause it would make the game that much easier: if I am that terrible of a person, then all the bad signs I see are correct and there's no need to interpret them. Then I'm an asshole, truly and sincerely. Then I'm useless, in the most basic, existential sort of way.

So when shit hits the fan, suicide is on the list. It's a way out of all the shit I've accumulated through no fault of my own. I want to make things better, but there's layers upon layers of fuckedness that I need to unfold first. But...

I have maybe a week's worth of food stacked around the house. I have a bit more than 200 rubles - about $3.5 - to my name. I have no job, no savings, no rainy-day bank accounts and no one to ask for money from. I could do freelance jobs online to get the money I need, but the fear of failure and the anxiety are so severe that all I can afford to do is play videogames because at least there I can achieve something. I need professional help pronto but I can't afford it. And out of ten people I've met IRL during the year I've been missing, the only friend I thought I'd made is being pissy with me 'cause I'm "unwelcoming", which doesn't fucking help my mental state one bit. Just yesterday, I was reminded by a good gal how I royally fucked the opportunity to ever be friends with her, in the sweetest way possible...

...and there's not a single person I can talk to.

So yeah, I'm a little off right now. This isn't square-one shithead-TFG: I'm off the table, on the floor, and the floor is crumbling.

Tell me about the feeling of belonging that I'm missing once again, motherfucker.