I feel like my friendship isn't healthy. I get hurt too often, to the point where I wonder why I want more friends when I know they're all going to turn out disappointing. But at the same time, I get lonely. It feels like a lose-lose. I feel like I would be fine, being alone with only stories as my only friends, because they can't hurt me the same way that people do. They don't look down upon my interests, or how I chose to live my life, or even who I am.
It's so idealistic to think that people work like characters do—but it feels like it's never been further from the truth. The truth is that unlovable people have to work to be loved, unlike what those stories like to perpetuate. The idea that an unlovable person can simply be loved just by existing seems like a naive way to think of the world, even though I desperately want to believe in that idea, and have extensively centered all my writing around it. But it's just projection. Because the truth is, I don't think it's possible, although it would be in a perfect world. As I like to say, it's just human nature.
I ask myself everyday why I continue on. For who, for what, why and how will you continue to live on like this. Life moves on for everybody, but not everybody can catch up with life's pace. And we're expected to just deal with it, society expects us to get over it because they did. What they don't see is the corpses that get left behind, or maybe they willingly never look back. In a world populated by several billion people, we are but a moment in this time, ready to be forgotten quickly. Perhaps it's sad that such a fact gives me comfort rather than anxiety, having my death be perceived is my worst nightmare.
I know I won't cut off my only friend despite how I feel. I already cut off everyone else. The problem is me, clearly, but even my ounce of self-awareness isn't helpful enough to push me to become a better person. At this point, I start to accept the fact that I am unlovable, which is why the only way I can cope is writing stories where unlovable characters can be loved, unconditionally. I'm happy for them.