Defeat.

It’s weird how one day you can just talk and talk and talk about how happy you are. About all of the good that God is doing in your life. About how everything in life is going so well. About how life is perfect. And then you sit there and think over your life and realize how alone you are.

It’s funny, even.

I’ve been laying here for the past couple of hours or so, feeling random teardrops fall down from my eyes. There’s been too much pressure; I’ve been too overwhelmed, and my heart hasn’t been well.

I’ve been reading this story lately, and I think it breaks my heart the more words I read. I classify so well with the main character, except I took a slightly different road than he did.

In the story, his mother died of cancer when he was younger, and so, his father instead of caring for his son, like he should be, turned to work and chose that to be his addiction of choice. His father was cold and covered with stone, and he pushed his son to be successful. He constantly told his son that he wasn’t good enough and that unless it dealt with him being the best in the business field, it was a distraction. He led his son to be unhappy, and he didn’t care. The son grew up, and though had a heart of gold, he pushed away everything that wasn’t in the plan that his father gave him. Except for a girl. They loved each other dearly, inside and out, but soon enough, they broke up. Because he chose work over her. Because he chose his dad over his true love. He chose somebody who will never actually care for him and his wants and needs over somebody who just wanted him to be happy and carefree. He chose somebody who will never put him as a priority.

I’m lucky enough to have a mother who understands that I will never have the passion to go into the medical, business, or engineering field, but even though she attempts to support me in all that I do, doesn’t mean that I don’t hear the disappoint in her voice when I speak to her. The phrases, “Why can’t you try harder?”, “Why can’t you be more focused?”, “Nobody’s going to love you if you don’t care for being pretty,” among others burn through my brain everyday.

After my father died, I made it my mission to make sure that nobody around me would ever be as depressed as he was. To never feel like they would have to kill themselves to feel at peace. To think that they were so worthless that the world would be a better place without them. But as I was taking care of everybody else, I forgot to take care of myself. I was so deeply passionate in loving others and making sure that they were happy, that I didn’t realize how unhappy I was becoming. I was becoming more depressed. I was having thoughts of killing myself to be at peace. I was feeling so worthless that I thought the world would be a better place without me.

But in the past couple of years, I’ve started and grown in my relationship with Jesus. I’ve started to learn what it was like to be content in Him, and that He’d love me unconditionally no matter how much I sinned and walked with darkness. I learned what it would be like to have somebody love me so much that they would die for me… because He did.

He’s done so much for me in the past couple of years. He’s given me a community of friends, a lifelong, passionate heart for others, and an understanding that the Great Almighty’s taking care of me. He has given me purpose.

But in these past few days, though I know His love is there, my compassion and mercy for others hasn’t been inside of me like it should’ve. My grace for others have been dwindling. I’ve alienated myself away from people who apparently love me.

Since I was younger, I’ve gotten along pretty well with guys. Though they’re goofy and all, when you get to know them, they can be intense. And that’s what I loved. I loved the honesty behind things, the bluntness, the way the majority of them don’t sugarcoat the truth and tell you things you want to hear. Or the things they think you want to hear. It’s a different feeling than being around girls. With girls, there’s so many emotions involved and so many… overthoughts. If I wanted to talk to somebody with those features, I’d talk to myself.

Over the summer, a couple of my closest guy friends were told by another friend that they shouldn’t have a close relationship as they did with me, and having them tell me these things burned my heart. It made everything inside of me hurt, confused, and lonely.

My three female best friends were three people I couldn’t talk to — one was with a group of friends that I couldn’t relate to anymore, one was simply too busy for me (and still is now and pretty much always will be), and there was a weird barrier between the last one that I didn’t know how to break down.

I didn’t have anywhere else to go, so I turned to my bed and my four walls and stopped letting people into my boundaries.

Now I feel like I can’t get close to anybody anymore. My heart is more guarded than ever, and I can’t rip the gauze off. It’s like it’s duct-taped together, and like typical duct tape, it’s never going to come undone.

And because of this alienation, I’ve come to terms this week that every human friend I have (…because obviously I’m not talking about Jesus) has somebody that they can go to before they come to me. That I am no longer an actual “best” friend to anybody and that I have no actual “best” friends. I just have a great number of acquaintances and a good number of friends, but no best friends. The feeling of loneliness has finally taken control over me.

And it hasn’t been good for me. The washed-up feeling of worthlessness I used to feel has come up again. The feeling when I got anything less than a B on a report card. The feeling when I didn’t feel adequate enough in bed to keep a relationship going further. The feeling whenever I got rejected for anything, whether it be a job, relationship, or even social time. The feeling when I realized that my own father didn’t even want me in his life.

All of those feelings had rushed over me, and all because I realized that I don’t have a best friend anymore. That with all of the time I try to put in other’s lives, and how I always try to give everybody my 100%, it’s still not enough. I will never come first in anybody’s life. Because I’ve worshiped the lust of wanting to be first and prioritized and wanted so much that it led me to a place where I’m not any of those.

Honestly, I just think at this point I can’t handle it. I’m sick of crying. I’m sick of overthinking. I’m sick of trying to grasp this slight sense of hope that a [human] somebody someday will love me and want to cherish me and tell me that I’m their best friend. For life.

A very dear friend told me last week, “Yeah, it’s personal every time. And you feel it every time. But you need to keep feeling it to keep caring honestly,” and those words have been repeating in my head since he’s said it to me… But in all honestly, I just want to stop feeling. And caring.

I understand the horrible theology in this message, and at this point, I’m sure Satan is out there somewhere laughing. Or at least giggling at the fact that for this moment in time, I’m falling to the fact that reality’s… real.

Hey Satan, good job. You won tonight.

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