All of your friendships- every relationship you have and are building- the whole of it, of them- each one is hollow. You are pouring your love out for no avail, even though it they may seem to reciprocate your joy, your compassion, your care; it is an illusion. You think he cares about you? He doesn’t. You think she loves you? Who could? And even if, perhaps, he did, or she does, you’re incapable of giving them anything in return. You’re a husk. You are an empty shell, and you are, truly, alone.
“Heh…”
“…It seems that someone’s been reading my journal again.”