Everyone Secretly Hates Me: It’s An Anxeity Thing

I feel like the people who say they’re my friends are not my friends. I go through this phase a lot.
No one is talking to me . If I talk to them I’m bothering them. I’m a hassle to talk to. A burden. Not good enough.
They don’t want to do anything with me. Go places I’ve suggested. Or put out in the open for anyone to reply to.
Why should I message you if you’re gonna take ages to reply, if you’re never free to chat, if you stop replying mid convasation.
It could all be in my head.
But is it?
This undeniable doubt must be there for reason, because I’m right. Everyone does secretly hate me.
If I disappear right now how many of you would care? How many would actually reach out? Try to find me? Talk me down?
Take me away from that cliff edge.
Because they didn’t before. The most unexpected people did and only because they were going out and I was on route.
Those people aren’t reading this because we don’t tall anymore.
No one is reading this.
No best friend. No close friend. No friend.
Because I don’t have any.
But here I am reaching put anyway.
Tell me you need me. Tell me why.
I don’t think anyone does.
We’re just trying to get by, plodding along through life. We’re all selfish. No one truly cares about anyone else.
They don’t care about me.
Yes I’m a loner but sometimes I fall too deeply into that good and I can’t get back up.
I’ve shut down again.
Too stubborn to confront anyone about it.
I think I can handle the darkness alone. But I’m wrong.
I need friendship and positivity.
Want. I want friendship, loyalty, love.
I want to spend my time and money on going places and doing things to make life long memories.
Someone do this with me.
Or just tell me I’m right . That you hate me and wish I’d go away. Stop writing these pathetic needy posts that no one wants to read. That no one cares about.
Sometimes I forget about how much I actually care.
I care so deeply and so much about everyone. I’m an empath. My superhero power is to make everyone feel better and give advice be the shoulder to cry on.
Who’s there for me now?
When I’m done pushing everyone away who is left?
It’s okay I get it. I’m a difficult person to like. You have to break down my walls and let me come out of shell and that takes way too long.
You can tell me. I can take it.
You’ll only be confirming what I already know.


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