Lonesome

I know of loneliness.

I know about feeling so absolutely alone in the world that I actually feel hollow, like there is nothing inside, like I can feel my sorrow rattling around in an empty shell inside me. 

I'm so lonely I want to die. 

Every day. All day, I want to die. 

I can't make this stop. 

Even after all this time, it hasn't gotten easier. I've been alone so long, I should be used to it by now, but as I grow older, it's all at once harder and easier. 

I've also caused this. I have made it difficult for people to like me and isolated myself. I've spent so much time by myself, refusing offers of friendship and company that I don't quite know how to spend time with people. I actually don't even know very many people.

I'm currently going through one of my bouts of insomnia and every time I try to fall asleep, I'm startled awake by panic about being alone and running out of time. I'm 30. I've spent 3 decades on earth without really gathering up any people that could ease my loneliness. 

Unhelpfully, I am also deeply, painfully, unceasingly depressed.

A friend of mine recently told me in jest that I shouldn't leave her a suicide note. I said I wouldn't but in a split second, the joke had turned serious because both she and I could tell that I wasn't really joking and that the possibility of me killing myself isn't an outlier.

I'd really, really, really like to die but I don't know that I'm brave enough to try again after all these years. So instead I'm stuck in this odd, unhappy limbo of a life that is seemingly a content and fulfilled one for anyone on the outside looking in. Meanwhile I spend my time thinking about practical ways to acquire a car in order to knock off by using carbon monoxide. 

This is all very, very wrong.