I'm just so scared of people. I am. Terribly afraid. Of people and of rejection. And of being judged.

And I want to talk about all this. I really want to. But every time I try I just feel how the words stop and disappear. And there is so much that I can't say, but that I want to say.

It's like... When I try to talk about this I almost inevetably start to cry. And when I cry I can't talk. I don't want to cry. I have worked so hard on not crying, it is almost like a reflex. And yet, I have to. And I am glad that I'm letting it out. I really am. But at the same time, it's incredibly hard anf painful and it feels so demeaning. Humiliating. And I feel so stupid.

Yesterday I got whaty I wanted and not even then could I let it all out. I so wanted to let it rip through my chest and out in the world, but I couldn't I don't know why? Not wanting to show myself weak? Not wanting to add to someones burden?

I feel so very very different from the rest of humanity.

I guess it is a strategy, finding a topic of discussion that I find interesting and knows a lot about as soon as possible. But it is an ugly strategy. Not very nice of me. Sure, I do it because I am scared. Because I want to prove myself in some way. But I also do it because I like the things I like and care very little for things outside it. In that way I am very ignorant. Not a nice trait. And I want to be nice, you know? But I don't want to lie at the same time.

I don't know... I have always had a problem with small talk. It's always seen so... Unimportant. That if we didn't talk about something Big and Important it was just... An act? So incredibly selfish of me at times. Who am I to judge what is important or not? On the other hand, I remember asking a new friend about his kids and we spent like 30 minutes talking about them. I don't really care about his kids. But he obviously does (of course he does!). And I got a new sensation. As I said, I don't reallt care about his kids, as I don't know them myself. But I felt like a human. A civilized person. Like I was going somewhere. Evolving. Or at least pretending to evolve. And it felt nice. Nice to be able to talk about something like that. Nice to enjoy it.

I think I have mentioned this before, but the only reason I have friends is my friends. I talked about this yesterday, that I can't even remember the last time I initiated contact with a stranger. Consequently, I have friends because they started to talk to me.

I'm just starting to see exactely how fucked up my behaviour has been. How fucked up it is. I'm actually amazed that I managed as good at the university as I did.

I just feel fucked up. I have this urge to just pull the cover over my head and yell "leave me alone" to the whole world, and at the same time I don't want to spend another minute alone again. And that is what scares me about getting my own place. I'm spending so much time alone as it is. How is it going to be if I live alone? I don't want a life where I go to work and then go home and wait for the morning to come so I can go to work again. I don't want that. But nothing interests me right now. Nothing that doesn't feel like an insult to myself.

At times this almost feels exciting. Like "I'm going to make it! This is going to work out splendidly!" and that feels good. For a while. Until I'm starting to think things like "why should it work out? Look at the stats, how succesful has my life been up till now? Exactely."

I'm so tired of not having any kind of safety. I don't think I have been safe one day in my life. It's wearing me down.

I'm starting to get a bit fed up with myself. "Buhu buhu, I'm lonely and feel like an alien and think that everybody barely tolerates me and all I can do about it is writing these stupid entries in a fucking blog!" But I don't know what else to do.