I hate that I’m always the person everyone goes to for spilling their tea. My whole life I’ve been used as nothing but a vessel for everyone’s shit—no wonder I’m going into psychology. I’m just sick and tired of that being my sole function as a friend/person. People just seem to know I’ll never tell anyone their secrets because I don’t have any friends to tell. I don’t have anything in my life that’s of significance of them. There’s no part of me anyone wants to be a part of and so I get left behind. It just fucking sucks. I’m gonna be 20 this next year and I don’t even think I’ve ever had a real best friend. Never had a boyfriend or girlfriend, never had anyone actually sit and listen to my problems unless they’re a paid professional and that’s they’re job. I’m just done with it all. It’s not like I ever asked for this. What I hate the most is how much the secrets haunt me. There’s some people I can’t even look at anymore without thinking about what’s underneath. The hardest part is that it’s just so depressing. Life makes me so happy, so unbelievably happy, but suddenly when you know things you shouldn’t, it depresses you that they’re an aspect of life. I get jealous of romances I’ll never have, I get angry at betrayals that were never mine, I get sad over hardships people have faced that I can never fix. It’s a complete mess. I hate knowing who fucked who, who fucked where, who cheated with who, who shoved what up their ass, who masturbated with what, who secretly got pregnant, who tried to kill themselves and how many times, who has bulimia, who has been abused by their father, who has self harmed, who has been traumatized by this or that. I so badly want to help people, I so badly want to fix things. But sometimes I just wish I could forget. I can’t live my own life without having to gauge it against all the secrets that fill up others’. I just want something of my own