It occurs to me now that I have been an addict since middle school, using drugs to numb the anguish from a perceived lifetime streak of inferiority. Along the way, there were friends and lovers in a degerating sequence of interest. Today, I see that everyone is gone and I am alone. Perhaps moving alone across the country and severing all ties to home at age 18 wasn't an idea rife with particularly adept foresight.
Today, I hide in the library and cry about long-gone ex-girlfriends, about the emotional reaction I experience when seeing others, about the dearth of social energy, about the regret of talent squandered and chances wasted.
Everyday I see others whose adversities are unavoidably conspicuous -- I feel a dull charge that I cannot help them in some way, though I feel an acute shock of guilt that I cannot get past my own self-induced issues and appreciate my able body and (once) clear mind.
Now, I see that I am sapping resources from a world that have an opportunity cost far greater than the return I could ever generate from them. The world would be economically better-off if someone else were breathing this air instead of me. The world would be economically better-off if someone else were absorbing the sunshine.
Today is perhaps the most hollow I have felt in my short life. I am glad this space exists for me to express this sentiment, because I certainly don't think that I should approach others with these concerns. If there is one thing I have learned as a young-adult, it's that there is no solace to be found in others -- they just want you to stop talking. And so, I shall.