Do I not have love? People ask for me when I go missing from a room. They write to me when they need things. I’m needed for things. I’m their friend, adviser, provider. There are days when I come home from a family dinner and think of how fortunate I am to be surrounded by these people, these bodies that find comfort in mine. There are times when I feel like running off a cliff because I’m almost certain for a millisecond that all the happiness in me would be enough to keep me elevated. And then there are days like this one when I feel utterly lost, confused and alone. I’m lonely in this gigantic universe. I see people doing every day things and think of how easy it all seems, so why don’t I partake? Why are these things so difficult for me? Why can’t I keep my relationships going? Why do I always go so far up in my head that I wander into the woods to sometimes never return? Why am I so hyper-conscious when it comes to other everyone’s emotions? Where is my purpose? If I sit here and ask myself these questions for too long, I’ll go mad. But it’s tough to render oneself ignorant after all this time, after all the thinking and learning and realizing. Still, I can’t help it. Does any of it matter? You tell me.