Recently, I haven’t been feeling myself.
I feel like I’ve lost myself over the years.  

There are more times of me feeling hollow, empty than of me being happy.  I don’t know how to explain it.  Nor do I even know how to fill that hole.  

People say that it’ll get better.  
                            What will? When? Why did it happen?

People say that things will change.
                            For better?  No. You don’t know that.

Often, I look out the window and imagine an alternate world.  Some place where I would be smarter.  Prettier.  Liked more.  Better.  

That wish might overlap with some people.

Being a Marvel fan, I always wanted to have Spider-Man powers.  And maybe a piece or fragment of Tony Stark’s intelligence and creativity.  

Creativity that I had lost over the years.  Intelligence that I never had to begin with.  Powers or abilities to make me proud of who I am.  Now I have none of those and the only thing that is left of me is the empty shell and the mask that I wear to hide.. me.

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I’m not proud of myself.  Nor are my parents.  Not even my friends.  If they were to know who I was.  I hide behind smiles and jokes.  I use your humor as a way of keeping people at a distance.  

No, my parents aren’t divorced.  No, I’m not disabled.  
Yes, I attend a fairly good school.  Yes, I have good people around me.  

Despite all the good things I have, I can’t stop feeling. Useless. Worthless. Not enough.  I don’t feel motivated to do anything.  I feel like the part of me that wants everything to end is taking over me day by day.  I sometimes want to jump out of the window but I fear pain.  I’m weak.  I want to buy pills and swallow the whole bottle but I don’t know what pills to buy.  It’s hard to get ahold on them here in Japan.  Should I burn everything I own before I die?  Or disappear after selling everything?  

I feel the need to do so so that my parents don’t have anything to look back on.  So they wouldn’t have to feel so ashamed about having me as a daughter.  I cry often now.  My father tells me that I did this to myself.  Bad grades.  Bad friendships.  No motivation.  I’ve disappointed many people in my life.  I cry feeling sorry for myself even though I have dug my own grave.  

I somehow never seem to learn.  I think there’s something wrong with me.  I’ve been telling my parents there’s something wrong with me but they just tell me I’m making up things.  Excusing myself from the reality that I am a disappointment.  That I messed up.  That I am dumb.  Useless.  I will never amount to anything.  I am hollow.  I am but a shadow of everyone else that used to be friends with me.  

I am not writing this for hope that I will change.  I just feel the need to put this out there.  Not for help.  I don’t seek help anymore.  Nothing will ever change.  

Some say, “Not with that attitude” but I’m tired of hearing those words.  I’ve already made and broken so many promises that I am not worthy of change.  Or a miracle.  I sometimes wish that whenever I go out to buy groceries, a car or truck will hit me.  I wish for an accident to happen so that I will die.  Or that something drastic would happen to me so that I will be away from everything.  Possibly in a hospital bed.  Possibly dying on the side of the road.  Possibly giving me a disability so that I could finally have an excuse of being who I am.  

I’ve imagined people at my funeral.  Not many will be there.  And even those who attend, will have never known the real me.  My true feelings.  About my friends, parents, education—everything and anything.  

I am writing this because I can’t tell anyone about this.  I understand that it doesn’t make sense.  Don’t worry about posting comments on this.  I will be glad that it has been read.  Although it was long.  I don’t know who you are or what you have been through.  I apologize for taking up your time.  

I don’t know what I am.  Who I am.  What I will be in the future.  I know nothing.