All suffering is relative, and we can only pretend to fully understand the plights or joys of our peers, but hears my story nonetheless. I'm 22 years old, and for the majority of the past 10 years I've felt numb about my own existence. I learned through experiences during my childhood that no matter how hard I tried, or how optimistic I was about being excepted socially, I just couldn't safe myself from what seemed to be my fate. As a youth I was constantly teased, shunned and picked on by my classmates for the first 16 or so years of my life. Because of this I quickly developed a very negative and introverted personality as a defense mechanism, a means of protecting myself from the constant volley. I gave up on dreams and aspirations, and can safely say that everything I've done over the past 6 years has been to please other people: going to and graduating college, my job, my fake sense of contentment I wear in public, all for other people, and for I awhile now I've been okay with it. Going through college I didn't make any friends, and so had plenty of time to dive into my head and try to find a solution or at least a reason for why? Why can't I be happy? Why can't I make friends, Why can't I find someone to help carry the this weight with me? After long nights thinking of these and may other problems, I decided to forgo them and just settled on being content to be miserable. This apple chart was over turned about a month ago when I was introduced to a girl named Ashley. Needless to say I was cautious at first, much like all other aspects of my social life my previous 3 relationships had all be mentally scaring events, but we really seemed to hit it off. I felt like she understood me and I her, and that maybe this was the payoff I'd been waiting for, my chance at happiness... We continued to have a great relationship over the next 2 weeks, and I started to feel like it was okay to be me, that if someone like her could see something worth while, and endearing in me. But this of course was too good to be true, on the weekend before Valentine's Day the other shoe fell. I managed to sabotage myself in less than a day, and the whole relationship imploded on itself. This has forced me to deconstruct myself, something I always do after these situations. Break myself down piece by piece, and I'm never happy with what I find. Now I'm stuck with the sad fact that every morning I have to wake up and be me, to live as my own worst enemy. I can't help but feel that life is as bad as I think it is, and the longer this vicious cycle continues, the more scared and broken I become; I can come to no other conclusions... There's no escape from yourself.