My body completely revolts when the bad episodes happen, and life is just terrible all-around. I face this alone, and my feelings fluctuate between being thankful nobody is here to have to deal with this and anger and despair over the world's complete lack of understanding. I realize there isn't a thing anybody can do for me, but a thread of "give a damn" would be kind. At the very least, I would feel like it matters whether I'm dead or alive. I'm not feeling it. I haven't for 30 years.
I read a lot of articles about love. It's an interesting subject to me, but I don't expect I will ever put the things I've read or learned into action with the exception of friendships, which are more important than I can express and I guard them with my life. I manage to be a dreamer and a realist at the same time. I lie in bed and imagine a different me, but the reality is that this is the me I'm stuck with and I'm glad that there is no man (or child) feeling trapped, anxious, and/or resentful. I refuse to coexist that way...I cannot do it. I am an empath and I would feel more sorry for my significant other than for myself, to the point of detriment. I know me. I love people just like anybody else. Dare I say, I am more passionate than some people, without a doubt. My love is intense.
And because of that love, I would never drag an innocent soul into my personal hell.