• I cannot love. I've tried. I'm just incapable. Not that I don't want it. I want it very much. In fact, it takes up much of my thoughts. Just the feeling of waking up next to the person you love. Feeling their warmth in your arms. I want to experience that. I want to really feel, just feel. Feel something. Feel alive. Feel loved. Feel happy. But I can't. My feelings always come up blank. Maybe I'm just too young. My brain not yet fully developed. Or maybe I'm just empty. I can fake it, yes. I can pretend quite well. Pretend to love. Pretend to care. But I just feel nothing. To care about a person, to care about anything. I can't. I act like I do. I act compassionate and caring, when really, I'm not. Nothing really bothers me. It's practically impossible to annoy me, it's hard to make me angry. I can fake the other feeling, happiness, love, compassion. But not anger. Anger is a negative emotion. If I were to act angry, people would look at me negatively. I watch, I observe, I copy. A carbon replica of human emotion, or human action. Always conscious of how I'm acting, how I appear. Always afraid I'm doing something wrong. Afraid people will see through my facade. My mask. Afraid people will see me for what I am. A ghost, a fake, empty. Nothing outstanding about me. Just another number, another worthless, nameless face. Just a human. One of six million, seven hundred eighty three thousand, four hundred and twenty one. A speck that will be forgotten in a century. Immortality is impossible. Life is fleeting. Life is worthless. We are but a microscopic parasite on a small planet in the middle of a medium galaxy in the middle of infinity. It would be arrogant to think anything more of ourselves. But we do of course. And we have our emotions, and we live our lives, and we make the best of it. We must try to be happy for our few seconds on this planet. We must try to be alive. We must try. I must try.