Responsibilities to others

Being responsible for other people is annoying. I got my shit together, why can't they?
Why do I have to live my life by their schedule, just because I'm the only one who can be mature and responsible?
I hate having to deal with everyone and their lives and their wants. People are annoying, to an extreme. Keeping them happy is annoying. Placating them is tedious. Not arguing with every stupid thought that crosses their lips is a strain.
I like college because I have friends now who can drive and take care of themselves and are responsible. But I'm still lugging around friends who just don't realize how much of a burden they are.
I guess I really shouldn't complain. I should consider myself lucky that anyone bothers to put up with my psychotic self. I know I'm getting worse. I'm slipping more and more, not keeping the mask up, finding it so hard to beat myself back into normality. I can't keep slipping. I don't need friends, but I also don't need anymore pills. That's the reason I won't tell anyone else that there's something wrong. I don't want more pills, more doctor's visits, more wasted time telling me there's something wrong with me and giving me a label for the kind of broken I am. I know I'm fucked in the head, but it'd be weak and pathetic of me to let anyone else know that there's another chink in my armor.

In less than ten words

How to you say "I'm so aroused" without saying it outright to the oblivious?
You don't. You go home and play with your vibrator and fantasize about all those things you wish you were brave enough to do with others but can't because you're a disgusting meat-bag hello.
I often dream of finding someone who'll just dominate me and pleasure me and humor me and my odd and sick kinks, and then I realize that it's impossible. No one would ever want me. No one does want me. I have to fight to even be attractive to others, and I'm a far cry from finding anyone around here who'd be interested in a little bit of action, especially with her around.
Honestly, I wouldn't be in this dark abysmal place right now if I wasn't so sexually frustrated, I bet you anything. This is about the time that I feel the need to hurt myself or punish myself. It's never a good time and I really do need some kind of help or medication at least while I'm sane enough to realize I truly am sick, but I can't bring myself to admit weakness.
I wish I were normal. I wish I was just a vanilla person who liked boys and wasn't socially crippled and awkward and was averagely pretty and was living a real college life instead of one monopolized by work and anxiety and all that. Like, so many people I see are living there life in college. And I'm just slogging through it. By the time I'm supposed to be reaching those golden years, I'll already be tied down by a monotonous job or three that won't lead my life anywhere and I'll have little hope of a career in a profession I enjoy. I'll probably take part in unfulfilling relationships that mean nothing and lead nowhere. The more I think about it the more depressed I become. Why do I even keep on living like this? Why don't I turn around my life, or end it?
Because either way I'll hurt people and then I'll just feel worse and screw up even more trying to make them happy again or trick myself into attempting to feel happy when I know perfectly well that I'm just a miserable person who's trying to fill my sorry excuse of a life with meaningless material objects and empty friendships and relationships. It's all going to be a waste, no matter what I do. My life is meaningless, and it's so disheartening and frustrating to think that I have to keep trudging on, continuing this farce.

Horny college kid problems

When you want to frick but your best friend won't take the hint and is also straight(?).

Afraid of so much

I've never understood my fears.
Fear of the telephone. It's so stupid, and socially hindering.
Fear of other women's periods. I have no idea about this one.
Fear of my kinks. This is only sometimes, and with her. I can never feel good about anything with her.
I wish I could just get rid of these annoying roadblocks. They hold me back so much, and I can't stand it.

Terrifying

It's literally one of the most terrifying feelings, to be worried about someone. I hate it. It's killing me inside, to not be able to control the nausea I can't help but feel, or the nerve-wracking anxiety that won't let me sit still. I worry it's codependence, that I worry myself to death about how she's feeling, and that I can't just let her feel how she feels without feeling some kind of terrible pain or sickness myself. I'm half crazed the amount of time I feel like I'm trapped in my head worrying about her. My stomach rolls, my heart pounds in my chest, and I have to do anything and everything to not go out of my mind, either in depression or anxiety. I can't stop scanning for her, even though it hasn't been that long and I know it will take her at least a little bit of time to settle her stomach.
I can't stop. I can't focus. My eyes keep darting over to where I last saw her and my body is shaking and my thoughts are going fifty miles and hour and my breathing won't slow down. It's ridiculous. Every flash I see out of the corner of my eye makes me think it'd her.
Ohp she's back.

Why can't my future be happy?

Why can't I have something for myself?
I want to be in a different mythology class because I can't stand my professor and his attitude, but I don't want to be in her class as she flaunts all of her 'love for mythology' and does that annoying thing where she bathes in attention and I get to be the half-wit sideshow.
Seriously. I just want to get the credit for this class and be done with it. But I don't want to be stuck in a class I'll be miserable in, and either way it seems to be the case.
Which pisses me off immensely. If I wanted to just be able to glide through a class I'd take the one she's in, but I'd be far too irritated to make it through a semester of that class with her in it, because she'd either glide through it too and flaunt it and be annoying as always, or she'd bomb it and whine and moan and be pathetic and even more annoying. I can't tell which I hate more, when she's good at something and doesn't know when to be modest, or when she's bad at something and doesn't realize to improve means she either has to actually do something, or stop complaining.
And her class sounds like more of a social place, which is something I'm not sure I want to get into. I'm not here to make friends, I'm here to get good grades and a degree and be done with this. College isn't about having fun, it's about getting something productive done with your life so you can go on to suffer through the rest of the torturous and tedious experience until you can finally die.

I'm a monster

But they made me this way. It's all their fault that Solus is shredded and torn. If it weren't for them, I never would have had to put my scissors on him. If it weren't for them I could have kept it together. If it weren't for them I could have gone on pretending I was happy again.
But now I can't. I can't go back and take back all of the horrible gashes in Solus's fur. Or all the stuffing that's all over my bed. I can't fix myself anymore, now I'm broken, and a monster.
I can't go back.
So tonight I'll sleep in the closet, and tomorrow I'll leave.