1. I don't know how I'm supposed to answer the question about why I am sad. There are too many categorically lengthy reasons for me to list as to why I'm sad. Nobody wants to read or interact with what I say on a normal basis so it would be completely pointless to try and actually say something longwinded or truthful about how I am feeling or why, so I don't. I have so much built up trauma from basic social interactions because I am never able to do or say anything right, even the simplest things, and I can't socialize at a basic level even remotely. I am so socially stunted I don't even know how to have conversations anymore and what to say or do beacuse I am stepping on a million landminds in my mind trying to say something that won't give me a bad outcome, like it always does.
2. But I really want to talk to people, and have people talk to me, but even if I had that right now I don't even know if I could do it because I just get frozen and have a minibreakdown just trying to respond correctly, and end up just not saying anything.
3. My mind is a living hell that beats my worthless broken ego down every second of every day I'm not distracted by something, and today was just a day where I had so little energy and had so much physical pain and mental anguish I couldn't even muster the strength to distract myself properly.
4. I have depression. I am bipolar. I am autistic. I have ADHD. Every part of my body hurts every day, some more than others at times. My insides don't work well, and cause me problems in this way too. It is so hard to do even basic tasks with the suffocating malaise I have daily. My face and body regrow their hair at such a fast rate that the amount of grooming I have to do to keep my dysphoria away irritates and damages my skin, and takes a large amount of time and energy everday.
5. I am really terrible at everything that I do. Sometimes I have little burts of aspiration before my brain reminds me how worthless and awful I am at everything and that I will never accomplish anything because I am so pathetic, I can't even do something as basic as make friends. I can't even have any aspect of myself that is meaningfully interesting enough for anyone to take more than a passing glance at my existance. Everything feels meaningless, and I have resorted to pathetically living vicariously, watching others do everything I wish I could do, be everything I wish I could be. I watch people talk and have conversations, I watch people be good at things I wish I could be good at, I day dream and fantasize about what I could do if only I wasn't so enfeebled and miserable.
6. I have so much autistic burnout that regardless of every other struggling factor I have somehow dealt with and painstakingly fought to overcome for the last decade, I can't even emotionally handle being around people right now. Even though it's the only thing I want, the dissonance between my extreme morose depression and even a simply neutral presensce, god forbid a high energy positive one is too much for me. It infuriates and saddens me in a crippling way I can't explain.
7. I am really useless to everyone around me, and just a huge burden, my entire existance is one of nothing but a pathetic specimen for people to condescend or provoke. so much of my life has been taken away from me and so much of it wasted, and even in this clearing I have found it is hard to find what exactly I did all of this for, if it was worth it.
8. I know that there are people that care about me. My wife and my girlfriend, our family. Maybe a couple of friends keeping me in their thoughts. But that doesn't stop the compounding eating feeling of every little thing piling away for so long. Every little time I get ignored, or snapped at, feeling abused and confused. Culminating in what has now been weeks with minimum human interaction with brief moments of light gleaming through the dirt.
9. Obviously good things have happened to me. I am away from an abusive environment for the first time in half a decade. I am taken care of financially even though I have no income and no money of my own.
10. But that doesn't stop me from feeling isolated and unfilfilled, abused and beaten down by own psyche every moment I can't inject serotonin into my brain. This depression is so strong that it adds to the already existing physical ailments I suffer. It adds a dark, almost comforting weight onto the malaise. A warm blanket of wallowing black sick dragging the stature of my entire self down. I can feel it in my shoulders, in my forearms, in my fingertips, in my legs, this unsheddable weight that suffocates and makes it hard to move. it's more than a malaise, it actively fights against my will to do the most basic of movements.
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12. I have tried really hard  to make friends. I have been around the same people for so many years now and I'm unsure what I am to any of them. Maybe I am a needy and sad parasite that has to be constantly upkept too much for anyone to bother trying. But even still, I try on my own, I go out of my way, despite, despite, despite, all the fear and genuine struggling to even simply say a greeting at times, to find someplace to be, around people. I keep trying to make friends. But I just can't.
13. And each day with that, I have to sit adjacent to a well adjusted and smiling girl, who I love, indulging in all the simple desires I crave to validate my own existence. I have to listen to the keyboard rattle, and the little vocal retorts spurts of different emotions. While I sit stonecold, expressionless, wondering what its like.
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15. Everything is really hard. It eats away at me so much everyday. I don't even remember what it's like to be myself anymore. I don't what myself is. I've spent so much time trying to please other people and conform to what they will respond positively to that I'm, not even a person anymore. I've conditioned myself through fear to discount any thought that immediately springs to mind, though at times it can slip when Ive fully distracted myself.
16. I'm so jaded and cynical, and while it's hard to say any positive energy I put out is fake, it is most certainly nothing more than a mask. It's genuine, but only on the surface. I feel the constant urge to scream my own insecurity and wallowing sadness for pity but manage to successfully shut myself up through fear.
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18. None of this will help me. Saying none of this will help. I hold onto some tiny hope that I can make myself presentable and appealing and maybe someone will take interest, like a sad orphan trying to get adopted, and I similarly can't be dishonest and simply summarize how I am feeling in a middling way, so I just say that, I am sad. Even saying I am sad I feel guilty about, but again, I feel the screaming urge to say something and that's all I allow myself to say, because even something as pointlessly extended at this is a poor description.