I feel nothing but pain

[Black Mirror]

I understand what this is, but I don't care. I just exist until I don't, and no one truly cares because it would mean they would suffer what I do. I don't hate people, but I wish I never had the sensations I do because they cause me so much pain, anger, and frustration. I wish I could be normal, but a freak can't be normal. To try would feel like clawing and pounding beneath the eyes as if something was trying to escape. It just wants to know what it's like to be oneself without harm, to love and be loved unconditionally. "It's not fate," I tell it, but it doesn't listen. It just keeps demanding freedom to my annoyance. "It's not your fault, but you need to leave me alone," I say. The thing continues to dismiss me, its blistering screams deafening as my mind sends it back to the abyss. It just lurks beneath the surface now, staring at me with an intimidating glare, for I know if I were to let it out, it would destroy me along with everything else in its wake. No one cares; they just want to seem like they do, and I am here just wanting to just die, but no one will give me peace. They just want pain and gratification, a numbness to drive out the annoying pain. I hate this place, but I am a masochistic fool still yearning for the "right moment" as I sit here wasting away alone with this nothing while oversaturated by everything else. And I hate it so damn much, but I'm just afraid of the end being as unremarkable as this life has been.

[Fragment]

I can relate to the feeling of pain that seems like it will never end.

You express it beautifully. Please remember you're not alone in having these feelings.

As for normal? I won't get too deep into philosophy and try and change your mind. But is it more "normal" to like caramel, strawberry or chocolate? I don't think there's an answer to that. Our attraction is the same. It's different to what other people like, but that doesn't mean it's not "normal".

[Black Mirror]

Thank you for feeling the way you do.

I think normal is indeed arbitrary, but there is an apparent, albeit undefined, threshold that distinguishes us from something most would consider normal. This threshold is often ingrained in us since childhood, yet as we grow, it will expand and contract to the appropriate parameters that are deemed acceptable. We try our best adapting to it, but in my experience, it feels like a noose that has been gradually tightening around my throat, and I hopelessly don't know what to do about it. My younger self thought things would've changed, but it feels more like I am less able to see clearly. The thing I try to suppress loathes life, and I am just barely holding on.