Throwing in the towel

I’m pretty much an idiot, and I pretty much hate myself.

I kept asking myself what changed, how I became the way I am. How I just didn’t seem to notice that I was changing; changing for the worst.  It’s just kind of sad that I’m realizing it even happened after I stopped caring. That’s really what’s happened now. I used to actually care, I used to see that something was wrong and try to fix it. Now, I see that something must be wrong (although, not a soul out there seems to believe me) — I can’t be bothered to do much about it. All I want to do is sleep, and be alone.

I just wish that somewhere out there, there’s some tiny part of me that still wants to be better. That somewhere out there there is something that can help me put together the pieces and figure out what’s wrong with me. Or if there’s even anything.

There has to be. That’s why I don’t understand every single time I’m told there’s nothing wrong. If there was nothing wrong this is just something that I could overcome and wake up one day feeling better. I’d be able to put all of this behind me. To just wake up and say, “Well, that was unpleasant. So, let’s move on.” But I can’t. I tried, and I can’t.

I don’t want to try anymore.
I don’t have it in me to try anything anymore.
I’m broken; defeated.