I just want one person to read this and talk to me about it. I don’t care who that is. I just want to know someone actually has bothered. I have a feeling this is going to be long-winded and quite self indulgent, but fuck it, I need to get this shit out and it’s not like anyone’s around to listen right now.

I’ve always been the “strong one.” Everyone tells me, at one point or another, that they admire my strength, my bravery, my cool head. And for the most part, it’s true; I’ve been through a fuck of a lot, more than a lot of people my age. I’ve been homeless, penniless, stranded in foreign countries, left to fend for myself. I’m a strong person. I take risks. I get myself in fucked up situations, voluntarily, and usually manage to get myself out of them one way or another. I’m not scared of a whole lot. There’s also very few things that will rattle me. I don’t tend to get stressed or upset or scared. People who know me well know this.

Another thing about me is that I’ve pretty much been alone the majority of my life. I don’t do well in large social groups, it’s something I’ve been working on a lot over the last year and have got a whole lot better at. But it’s still hard. I’m just not used to people. As a kid with a single working mother who moved us around a lot, I never really had a chance to get used to people. In some ways, it’s been good– it’s made me appreciate a lot of things that kids these days don’t. I like to read and explore, I see beauty in all things, even what everyone else would figure to be ugly. I have an appreciation for animals that comes 100% from me being out of the company of people, they’ve done more for me and been with me through more than any person has. I miss them. Greatly. Anyway, I don’t care about my “handicaps,” I’m still a strong person and I still manage to get through what I need to get through.

My problem is this: when you’re the “strong one,” no one really expects you to be weak. I’m the one everyone goes to with their problems. I’m the advice giver, the person who knows what should be done and how to do it. And with that kind of pressure, I don’t really get a chance to be weak. This is one of those times where I’m the weakest I’ve ever been, and, yet again, I have to deal with it on my own. I’m fucking sick of it. And to be totally honest, I’m terrified. I have literally no direction in my life right now. The person I thought would give me some kind of direction is now pulling out of my life too. To quote Nine Inch Nails, or, if you prefer, Johnny Cash– “Everyone I know goes away in the end.” And that’s one of the most relatable things I’ve ever heard in a lyric.

The reason for this is one I’m still trying to figure out. I don’t think I’m a bad person. I really don’t. I’m loyal, affectionate, smart, easy-going, unassuming, non-judgmental, loving, and even occasionally kind of sweet. Suppose I should emphasize the “occasionally,” but you get the idea. I’m the epitome of a “forgive and forget” kind of person, no matter what terrible things someone has done to me or said about me, I’ll be the first one to be there for them if they need someone. And even if someone has done me some serious wrong, I’ll be the one who will go crawling back to them. But the sequence of events in my life has led me to wonder if I’m viewing myself honestly or through rose-tinted glasses. I used to be a bad person as a teenager, I know that. Once in awhile, usually when activated by my mother, I can still be pretty awful. But for the most part, I’ve left all that bullshit behind and I’m fairly steady. So why the hell does all this bad shit keep coming my way? What am I doing to deserve it? And the biggest question of all:

Why the hell isn’t there anyone at all to be there for me when I’m always there for everyone else?

I’m fucking lonely, for god’s sake. I’m a human fucking being and I’m dead fucking sick of being alone. I’m sick of people thinking I can handle it just because I should be “used to it” and I’m sick of people expecting me to. Newsflash: Loneliness isn’t something anyone ever gets used to. I’m sick of people taking advantage and I’m sick of being dicked around by fair-weather friends who want me when it’s convenient for them but mysteriously fuck off when the going gets a little rough and I show one fucking iota of being a real person. I’m sick of being used, I’m sick of being abused, I’m sick of being a goddamn object that people only ever show any interest in because they want to fuck me. And guess what happens when they’ve done that? They fuck off too.

I want someone I can lean on and rely on, someone I can spill my guts to, someone I can be completely comfortable with. Someone who won’t abandon me and leave me stranded again. Someone who’ll wrap me up in their arms and just make me feel safe, and loved, and wanted. I thought I had that but I was a fucking idiot. Each time this happens, I tell myself I should’ve known better, everyone’s the same, the only person who will ever truly be there for you is yourself– or a dog. I tell myself this every time. But god fucking damnit, I just don’t listen to myself, and I stupidly fall for the same tricks every bloody time. I finally think, “wow. I’ve found someone I click with, someone I get on with, someone I’m comfortable with who actually appreciates me for who I am,” and then fucking presto, they reveal that I really don’t matter to them. It’s taking its toll. It really is. And I don’t honestly know how much more I can take.

I miss my dogs. With my dogs, everything was somehow okay. My dogs were there for me, unconditionally. Why the fuck can’t people be like that? I’m like that for everyone else. I never abandon people. Ever.

When the fuck will someone return the favour?