Alone

I’ve never felt more alone in my life. I have more people I can talk too than I have ever had, granted the number isn’t very high. 2. But it’s a lot for me still. And talking about things is nice. But no one understands. I’ve tried helping people understand. I’ve tried opening up, but it just isn’t right. No one gets it. Venting only does so much when they only have dry words back. Even if they care, it can only do so much. I don’t want too sound like some edgy attention whore who complains about everything and says no one understands him but rn that’s how I feel. As much as I’ve connected with certain people, or as much time as I’ve spent with others, or anything. I’m missing someone who understands my own struggles. Someone who knows some way too help me or can atleast talk with me about it. Someone I can relate too. Everyone I know is privileged I feel like. Wealthy family, nice things, freedom, even if limited, friends and family they can spend time with, places they can go. A clean house that doesn’t smell like alcohol and weed. Things like that. I wonder how things would be different if I had those things. Many of my current issues would be gone. Maybe I can’t complain, I’m not starving or homeless. But I can’t help but feel neglected. And over the years this neglect has destroyed a part of me I feel like I can never get back. It all adds up, adds up into making the most dead inside person it can make. The loneliest person who isn’t alone. Even as I type this my parents argue, and my grandparents are in the hospital. Neither will likely survive another year or two. Then I can be even more alone. I never knew them well, but then again I don’t know anyone in my family well. Who needs family anyway ig. I’ll just keep being by myself.