Anne Alias
tired.
- Feb 11, 2025
- 39
Since I've been.. fuck, a little kid, I've wanted to want like other people do. Want things, want friends, want experiences, want... just want. To care about something to really want. I don't know the last time there was something I'd have done anything for. To have a need born out of want. I guess its just a part of being.. hardly a person? not one?
Its not that I want to be loved. i just want to want it. Its not there, there's a disconnect. Whenever I had a friend and we'd talked- hung out, whatever- Sometimes I could feel myself looking at them. I could tell how empty my eyes were. I don't think they noticed, or if they did they didn't mention it, but I just truly did not care for the most of them. There was one girl I've ever really cared for, and she didn't really care about me. I don't think she did.
Even with her, I could feel it sometimes. that lack. Of course that wasn't all the time, she was lovely and I really enjoyed being around here, but sometimes there was the no-feeling feeling. Oblivion, mixed with gut wrenching anxiety over the fact that I was hollow. That she would know exactly what I was. Pretty fucked up, huh?
By the time I was 14, I stopped wanting things almost entirely. If I were a Buddhist that'd be great- one step towards nirvania or whatever- but I just didn't care enough to need more than my horribly cracked phone, a half broken, half decade old pair of airpods I;d gotten from a family friend after she replaced hers, 2 plain, ripped ass black hoodies, and couple pairs of pants. All I needed, so it was all I needed. Didn't even care enough to get a bedframe, I just kept my matress on the floor. Right next to the jackson pollok lookin spider corpses on my wall., black lines and red spots I had something of an infestation, but we were cool as long as they didn't eat me. I think they figured that out after a while.
I got a little better about that as I got closer to 18- more clothes, more shit, an old victorian doll (I named her Victoria), a little bit closer to the humanity I could recognize in the people around me. I still wasnt- no, I'm still not a full person. Now I hardly care enough to finish this little thing I'm writing so I'll finish this up quick.
Then I learned to go insane and do anything forever and everybody lived happily ever after until I got hit by a rock and died. The End. Love, your least favourite person <3.
No, uhh. . .. . ... . .. . . ... . .. . . sure. fuck it. good enough.
Its not that I want to be loved. i just want to want it. Its not there, there's a disconnect. Whenever I had a friend and we'd talked- hung out, whatever- Sometimes I could feel myself looking at them. I could tell how empty my eyes were. I don't think they noticed, or if they did they didn't mention it, but I just truly did not care for the most of them. There was one girl I've ever really cared for, and she didn't really care about me. I don't think she did.
Even with her, I could feel it sometimes. that lack. Of course that wasn't all the time, she was lovely and I really enjoyed being around here, but sometimes there was the no-feeling feeling. Oblivion, mixed with gut wrenching anxiety over the fact that I was hollow. That she would know exactly what I was. Pretty fucked up, huh?
By the time I was 14, I stopped wanting things almost entirely. If I were a Buddhist that'd be great- one step towards nirvania or whatever- but I just didn't care enough to need more than my horribly cracked phone, a half broken, half decade old pair of airpods I;d gotten from a family friend after she replaced hers, 2 plain, ripped ass black hoodies, and couple pairs of pants. All I needed, so it was all I needed. Didn't even care enough to get a bedframe, I just kept my matress on the floor. Right next to the jackson pollok lookin spider corpses on my wall., black lines and red spots I had something of an infestation, but we were cool as long as they didn't eat me. I think they figured that out after a while.
I got a little better about that as I got closer to 18- more clothes, more shit, an old victorian doll (I named her Victoria), a little bit closer to the humanity I could recognize in the people around me. I still wasnt- no, I'm still not a full person. Now I hardly care enough to finish this little thing I'm writing so I'll finish this up quick.
Then I learned to go insane and do anything forever and everybody lived happily ever after until I got hit by a rock and died. The End. Love, your least favourite person <3.
No, uhh. . .. . ... . .. . . ... . .. . . sure. fuck it. good enough.
