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I realize (and actually 100% acknowledge) that I am co-dependent. I have always been alone in my life, from the time I was very little up until about two years ago. 16 years of being alone can really mess a person up, and I acknowledge my faults. I do not like being alone. I lived in my room with almost no human contact for 7 years straight, simply because I had no friends. (I assume it's because I never developed the people skills to make friends, but I'm not really positive.)
I didn't (and still don't) know how to form a lasting bond with anyone. I am unsure of myself and have lost all confidence in who I thought I was. I am consistently lost in a spiral of thought (this is what I think, but then I think this too), a never-ending circle of self-contradiction. I have a constant wonder of why I deserve to live. I am always scared of being alone. Even now, all I can think of that I would really enjoy is to continue living here, in my apartment, surrounded by friends. I am comforted by their presence, and made to feel secure.
But now I think that it might not be such a good thing. I used to dismiss myself as simply being needy and clingy, social and enjoying the company of others. But if I'm to go off of the readings I'm getting from other people, this is most definitely a bad thing.
I have lost faith in what I thought was real. Every day, I lose faith in the Family I once thought I had. And I know I only lose it because I'm not strong enough to believe by myself. I had Nettie, who believed (and still does). She and I would talk for hours about them, about the world they inhabited. And now, because she is no longer in my life, I can't bring myself to believe.

Sometimes I think the solution to losing myself so completely would be to just come clean, about everything. I'm not even honest with myself anymore, for fear of hurting people's feelings. So what do I do when I can't tell people what I think or feel or am fearful of? I often complain, and hope that things will resolve themselves with the help of others. I was taught it was a good idea to share your feelings with others, and your thoughts, so you wouldn't have to bear the weight of your problems by yourself; your friends will always be there for you.
Problem being: I never had any friends to begin with. So the people I would open up to would just wonder why I was spilling my guts to them. I have Jessie. Yes, I have Jessie. And I would never give her up, if I could help it. But that's another of my faults: I've always been loyal to a fault to the people that meant the most to me. (What's the point of "winning" at life if you're just going to die in the end anyway? If there truly is no life after life, then what was the point of it all?)

I'm starting to think, right now, while listening to some Homestuck music. I turned to Jesse for help with this problem, this entire issue of existentiality that I'm having. She wasn't able to be there, because she was sleeping. So I'm left to my own devices (Alex being asleep) to try and figure out my own mind. It's a place I'm scared of, to be honest. I feel I have no control in my own head. It's always racing, always filled with so much information, interpretation, knowledge, that I have a hard time keeping track of it all. And it's all such a contradiction to itself that I don't see any conceivable way to not only keep up on it, but to find my own truth in my own skull. There's a possibility, yes, that it all is truth, but that's about as likely as it all being false. Which is also a possibility that I can't really rule out. Do you see what I mean? There's no way for me to be sure of myself. I don't have any concept of who I am or what my value is. If anything, I'm sure that my value is worthless to all but a very select group of people, and that who I am is only relevant around those people.
I have no way to convey who I am to people I am not comfortable with.
I don't know how.
I need a base reading on who I am with, and enough time to become acclimated around them before I feel that it's alright to begin acting (which gives me a beautiful social anxiety, I'd like to point out).

I don't like people I haven't met, unless I know who they are. Such as Alex's mother. She's a wonderful woman, and I'm very grateful to have met her. I knew who she was; she was his mother, and therefore (from what I'd been told) she was nice enough. I soon found it out for myself.

Now I begin to wonder why exactly I find so many "problems" with myself. Many people dislike being thrust into a group of people and being forced to interact. But for some reason, it's only "wrong" because it is me. Why is that? Why do I find so much fault in myself?

I know exactly why, though I don't know if they're an acceptable excuse. I had problems when I was being raised. My mother taught me that I was worthless. Her boyfriend taught me that I wouldn't be good enough for anything. Now, Eric has gone through the same thing, and yet he's managed to rise above it. How is it that I'm not as strong as he, when I've gone through some similar situations (I don't want to assume that he and I are one in the same in terms of our background, because I don't know every aspect of his life, and he doesn't know mine, and were he to read all this, he might just throw something at me for being such an a**) and he's managed to rise above, yet I haven't? Is it just because I'm female, or because I'm weak?

Why is being "weak" such a bad thing, anyway?

I think I know what it is, now. I look to other people for approval, to make sure I'm doing the right thing. I constantly surround myself with people that can let me know how I'm doing, because I don't trust my own mind enough.

Oftentimes, I've wondered if the "Family" Nettie and I shared was nothing but a figment of my imagination, or possibly a split-personality disorder that I developed (and she developed too...?), an indulgence of insanity that we both shared. I can't bring myself to whole-heartedly believe in the existence of something I cannot see, I cannot bring myself to have a solid religion, I cannot trust in the relationship that I have with other people (and so need the constant reassurance) because I don't trust my mind. It is dangerous, and has been corrupted (by my past, by my choices, and by my experiences) and therefore I realize that I'm afraid of myself. I've never been good enough, and now that I have it in my power to really be who I want to be, I can't, because I don't know who that is. And my mind is so indefinite that I don't know what to do with myself most of the time.

Friends are a welcome distraction. Losing one tells me that I've been doing something wrong, whether to push someone away or to be treated poorly. Which confuses me, because up to that point, I assume that I'd been doing everything right (having never been told any differently). And then I lose the friend and my mind is thrown into turmoil once again.

How I'm supposed to remedy this issue, I have no idea. But at least I figured it out on my own, and it's a shining moment of clarity to me. Similar to the first time I discovered I was capable of thinking for myself. (A moment where everything seemed to go downhill, but at least now I know why wink )