It doesn't get better. I know I shouldn't expect everything to magically get better. I wish I could crawl into a hole and disappear forever. I don't know how I've survived this long but I find myself wishing my life could end. I can recall feeling like this for as long as I can remember but it only seems to be getting worse over time. Especially since I have moved out. I spent the entire past weekend cooped up in my house. I barely had any human interaction and I loved it. Was I happy? No. But I enjoyed my misery. Misery can sometimes be the best company, and the worst. It keeps you from feeling lonely but also the emptiest feeling in the world. I can say that misery is the friend that's always been there for me keeping me company in my solitude.