I have to read all those narratives of people who were godly and yet didn’t get their happy endings. I mean, what should I even hope for in this world? I need to get over the fact that what I want will never be reality. Or at least, what my subconscious wants, because I actively try to suppress it. To be desired by someone I actually desire. How can I even begin to love anyone if no one has made me feel that way ever? If God shows His love through people supposedly caring for and loving a Christian who follows Him, then He does not want to show me that love on this earth, as if He wants to starve me. Maybe I need to read Christians who starved to death. My parents do not “love” me, because they do not understand me and think I am Bertha Mason, an insane woman who burned their reputations because they no longer have a talented daughter to show off. I do not have friends. I do not have guys pining after me and showing me a little interest. I do not have any shred of earthly socially-mediated love, and I have never felt anything of that sort since I was very young, that I think my neural pathways supposedly assigned to those functions have withered away. All I feel is low-level bitterness and hatred. How am I supposed to care about anyone now? I can only hate and hate and hate. The only love I can show is sacrificial: that is, I will take responsibility for my sister Am-am when my parents can no longer do it. It’s like God intentionally ruined my life in this way because Am-am needs me. That’s just sick. I mean, if Am-am does go to heaven, I hope we become friends. She’ll be the only one there I will have loved truly. Maybe I’ll just have to consume a lot of godly humor type things and media. And busy myself with godly work. I just really really wish I was asexual. Unfortunately because of my hormones it’s the only thing I can “want.” I don’t really crave social interaction because it’s never been ingrained in me and also because I’m autistic and lack social skills. I was also heavily geared in childhood to ignore people in order to practice for my piano contests. And also, I was just really unfortunate as a child, I mean, I had been exposed to other intelligent children like Isabella and maybe Red and Adrian, but I never developed close friendships with similar nerds whom I would have related with and bonded over the same stuff. So I don’t naturally have the desire to give people dopamine and have dopamine returned back. But I experience loneliness because I do not share anything with anyone. Like I’m not building anything valuable. Hence I think my work springs from truly. I want to contribute somehow. Make use of my “genius” because it seems as if I’ve got general abilities in all fields but never really excelled in any one of them. I don’t really like this—being a jack of all trades. I wish I was a specialist. I wish future careers would bloom where “general practitioners” would get to do interdisciplinary work that would be valuable. Someday I would CRISPR my appearance to delete my past.