I thought to myself “I hate that I have to reply to e-mails, I hate that I am asked to do things, I hate that I have to worry about whether I have enough food in my fridge and that I have to go to the shops. I hate that I have to get up and go to work.” I want to go home to my country but lately, I don’t want to go home. And then it just hit me, that I am so sick of living.
Am I that sour that I hate having friends? I hate being asked to do things because I am set up in the situation where I have to, again, say no. I hate social situations and if it were up to me, I’d be married and spend all of my time with one person that loves me romantically. Am I that bitter that I don’t care what anyone else thinks besides the opposite sex? And I’ve just given up hope with men as it is.
The little optimism I used to carry is now completely depleted. I used to hold onto a thought that someone may want me, but at this stage – I am no longer waiting by the phone for his message that he suddenly wants to have 50 thousand of my babies and I know that the only time I may get is during the week when everyone else is busy. I don’t even care about it anymore. I lost hope in myself, I’ve put on a few kilograms that have shown up in my face and I am embarrassed to see myself and to be seen. I’ve just lost feelings of pleasure and happiness.