Obsessing about obsessing too much

Obsessing really hurts when you've passed the point of realizing it's not good for you, yet you cannot change your mindset, you just can't fucking stop. And I can't help but reminding myself of all the other obsessions that nearly ruined my life even more. Imagined relationships with people I barely know or don't know at all, the computer full of pictures, diary full of scriblings of stories, thoughts, letters, actual or imaginary conversations. So cought up fantasazing I almost forget the real person actually exists out there in the world and that they don't know me at all. Until reality finally hits (and it's good that it does) I just can't stop crying. No words can really describe how that feels. Somewhat like the mix of a heartbreak, losing an arm and what's the word for when you realize it was all a big waste of time and wondering how you could even cough up that much intence emotions of what actually was an imaginary person.

Vivid imagination, people used to call it sometimes. A great gift, they said too, that about having a vivid imagination I mean, don't think they actually ment having a huge crush on an imaginary friend... Yeah, some gift huh.

So now I sit here, and it's me and not my computer that's crashing, and all I want to do is go to my room with shrinking walls and cut myself until I can't feel the pain anymore and just drift away to a horrible sleep where those horrible dreams are made. Yuck.

But what does cutting solve? I wanna solve my fucking problems, not make myself feel even worse. For seven years I've basically been watching my life pass me by and nothing I've done has been truly helpful. And fucking talking about it doesn't solve a thing. I want a real solution, something that actually helps. But the thing is, through all this time I've just stacked my problems in a big fucking pile of shit, and the more I hang around the worse it gets and the more problems I get.

I wish i could somehow uncomplicate myself. I mean: I hate how I look, I obsess about something meaningless all the time, I have people in my head, get overemotional all the time, the only thing I'm good at is drawing and writing, I can't work, can barely study, God didn't get my gender right, I'm more than fairly self-destructive, my mind is constantly filled with fobias, anxiety and annoying coversations with Anna, I can't sleep at night and be awake at day, I can't keep the friends I make or live alone without having my mom hanging over my shoulder every minute, and I can't deny the fact that I'm actually a demon incarnated to a human body and mindset.

Am I just clinically in sane or was I just struck with an abnormal amout of bad luck? Will I ever get better at living, or am I doomed for life? Will this life ever be worth living...?