Those who have been there for me...still aren't there enough. Maybe it's narcissistic to say so, but it's true. I constantly feel alone with myself, driven into bitterness. The outcast among the freaks. Really, what does that say about me? Accepted as I may be, I could never become a part of anything. People I've been "close" to for years, I still can not go beyond awkward conversation when I'm alone with them. And when the only person I feel comfortable with steps inside those doors, I am left in the snow.
I tried, I really did. But I don't have the ability to walk inside those doors. They will remain forever locked to me, sentencing my eyes to a monotonic sky. I realize it's unfair to ask you to live the same fate. But I have the right to be bitter, don't I? You win, alright? I admit my jealousy. I admit how fucking embittered I am that these barriers are so easy for you to overcome, that you won't live your life alone. I don't have that privilege. I'm jealous, because it's so fucking easy for you. I'll stay in the snow, wearing furs and masks. I hate you, simply because you don't have to wear them. I hate you because I'm stuck outside. I hate you because you never have to feel alone.
You still look at me as an outsider, so why do you question me when I act like one?