On the Outside

As I lay in this bed, and await a dreaded hour, I think and ponder; worry and wonder, about the week I recently had.  And I detest and begrudge my monotone existence.  Day in, and day out, I wish to sleep and not wake up to this failure of a world.  This feeling I cannot hide, for I have found I am still on the outside looking in.  It’s a kick to the face, when I thought I found a place.  But it’s a lie, and I am no longer fooled, in complacency.  It is nothing but a joke, and I am not laughing.  This world!  It would have me insane!  But if I were to surrender, it would mean they win.  Teasing and taunting, I can barely take it.  And I wish I were dead.  Is life so meaningless that no one could understand why I feel this way?  Or am I doomed to be alone always?