Broken

Sometimes I think that something must be broken. Some part of my brain that is responsible for controlling myself, perhaps.
It seems like I have to fight just to keep myself in any state for to long. I learn so many things in my psychology class, but none of it has helped me so far.
Maybe my only shortcoming is in my desire to be sick.
Maybe that's a lie.
The most all consuming thing that that I've ever had to deal with is my need to be a part of something. It is a shapeless force that slams into me from every angle. My best defense is my words.
No matter how bad it gets, I have a way out. I don't know if they'll work anymore, but that doesn't mean I can't hope.
I can hope for romance, or inspiration. I can hope for anything, but I have the strangest feeling that it won't matter in the end. The only thing that would help me is oblivion.
I don't think that I can cope with all this stress. I'm just a stupid, needy kid that got dragged into this blaring nonsense that is called life.
I think that I just want attention. I don't know if I would be happier if people were reading this, or if I knew that nobody could get to this.
Whatever, it doesn't even matter; I sound like the biggest whiner in the world anyways.
Thanks for reading.