A confession from a defective, dying man, seeking redemption for his past mistakes.

I used to know what life meant, or at least I thought I did. I always felt as if I didn't belong, as if I wasn't meant to be here, in this place, with this life, on this earth. From the time I was a little child I felt different. Not in the generic sense but in a literal sense. I saw things different, I acted different, and I was never able to quite get it, to be a typical kid. On the surface I was smart, eager to learn and very full of life. On the inside, I was the exact opposite. I was confused, filled with wonder and uncertainty. I was quiet and reserved; I hated the thought of being in big groups, but in school that's all it ever was. I was an angry, frustrated child. Often times I hated myself when I'd look in the mirror. I never truly took great care of myself. I wouldn't even describe the way I treated myself as even remotely decent. I put myself down more than others ever did. I was harder on myself than anyone ever was. I blamed myself for my dad never wanting to be a part of my life. I blamed myself for why I didn't have a normal family around me. I became the scapegoat in my own mind for why my mom was so mean to me and treated me harder and from my perspective worse than my other siblings. I felt little self-worth. I acted out in school by talking excessively, by being boisterous and mean to people because I hated myself. To this day I struggle with self-image; I struggle with being softer toward people who love me. For some reason I have messed up the best thing that has ever happened to me. I can't explain why I am this way; I don't know what lead me to those actions. Those behaviors are a further representation of me needing help. From how I see it I didn't know it then but that was a cry for help. I had a woman that loved me so powerfully I was afraid to break that shell so early that she would see the defective broken me, that the flawed me would scare her away. I was afraid of losing her and in me acting in those unexplainable ways I have done just that. I never was truly into social media until my mood swings and depression and antisocial behavior took grasp of me. Before college I hadn't ever truly been depressed and alone. I was both there. I turned to Facebook as a way to escape my past, escaping my present. As a way to cope with the life I never had. To make myself feel better, I would sit there in the dark alone on nights refreshing the home page. I had no one to talk to because I was too shy, nothing to post myself because I had nothing fun, cool or noteworthy going on in my life. Years ago that was my crutch. That was my way of making myself seem like I fit in. I never truly did. I had no one to hang out with; I had no one that wanted to find out about me in those moments. I was a scared boy thousands of miles from home and I had no friends. I was lonely and my depression really picked up. Then my sophomore year I became depressed and suicidal. Not even Facebook was helping me. I couldn't tell my family, the people I knew, that I was depressed beyond all normal boundaries. I stopped going to class, I tried to shake things up a bit and got a tattoo, I couldn't even sleep only bed. I went whole weeks without sleeping, I had no appetite for months, and I didn't even shower. I cried all day, watched movies that pushed me further into my depression and fell farther and farther toward the inevitable, suicide. On March 24th 2011, I had hit absolute zero.
All throughout the mid spring of 2011 I had created a twitter to express how I was feeling while not showing my face. I created a surname, a twitter handle that no one would trace to me and I tweeted my depression for the world to see even though no one was following me. Twitter became my best friend. It became my outlet to the world. It soon turned into a nuisance, something I became addicted to. Something I never meant to become what it became. Social media at this point in my life has hindered my happiness and the happiness of those around me far more than it helped. She deserved better behavior. She deserves accountability and better effort. I'm trying to be hopeful. But my daily anxiety attacks and vomiting episodes make it hard for me to focus on fixing this all. I know I must get help because if I don't not only will I not ever have the opportunity of earning her love and trust back, but I will undoubtedly slip back into the state that I was in in late 2010 and early 2011.
 It's impossible for me to convey into words just how meaningless and worthless I feel. I haven't felt like "me" in a long time, possibly my entire life. I struggle with confidence; I have mood swings that resemble ocean swells. On this day, this year, 2012, I resign myself from my old life, from my old twitter. From Facebook and all things that were the "me" I never knew. I don't trust myself nor do I believe in myself currently. And I desperately need help. I feel that I'm drowning in a sea of my own insecurity and lack of self-worth. I'm sorry to everyone I've hurt, I'm sorry to all of the people in my past that I took for granted, that I was mean and unfair to. That's not the behaviors that I want to exude. Those aren't the actions of a proud man. Those are the actions of a scared little boy who never really knew what it was like to be loved and validated. To all of you, whether I can consciously admit it or not, I need help. Badly, I need to find me in this pile of nothingness. I need to; not only for me, but for the woman I love, for the family I don't yet have. For the people who's lives I haven't yet encountered. I am sorry here, then and forever.