If the very foundations are built on lies, what stops even the truth from collapsing?

I feel so awful and alone right now. I don't know that I can trust anyone anymore. I don't even know who actually loves me for me and not for what I do for them. Has it all been a lie you were hoping you'd eventually be able to make true? Trying to love me like you've loved others? Trying to love me because I'm so good for you, so much healthier for you than the ones you truly care for. You've tried to take the safe route for once, someone so sweet and pure and able to endure your blackness and work you through it. But it's not enough to make you feel for her as you do for the ones that you long for, that even as they hurt you you cant help but wish to see again...to care for them, touch them, hold them...

I don't know what to do anymore. I've willingly put myself in this prison, this blackness, all out of simple, unabiding love and a desire for closeness. Foolish me, going to the very last place I was likely to find it.

So now here I am, feeling awful and alone and stuck. It's 3am though, maybe the darkness is too close and my thoughts are too influenced by my deepest fears.

Fears of aloneness, fears of being unlovable, being rejected, being repulsive, replaceable. The tears have been streaming down my face for hours, months, it seems... A constant ache deep within my heart screaming for the resolution I've wanted for so long, and yet, may never come. Where is my hope? Have I finally drained the source of my never ending spring of love?

I need truth, I need truth. I need truth. When is it my turn to feel cared for? When will my own presence stop being a burden or an error?

Just as I was beginning to look into his eyes and see truth there, to feel loved, wholly, as I have always wholly loved...it's ripped away from me. And who do I have to blame for this? Is it only my own fault for inventing the whole thing, for giving into my
fears and accepting them as true? Or are they real besides my fear? Even the morning holds little hope of a certain answer.

I'm the character in the story no one cheers for. Two star crossed lovers, split apart through circumstance, and then a third love interest arrives. The reliable, safe lover who offers one of the star crossed lovers the entire world. But this third person just doesn't satisfy the romantic leanings of the readers, there's nothing interesting about him, it's too safe, too boring, for the story to end that way. The forbidden love, the temptation, the longing of two young, foolish lovers to be together in spite of all the odds is what every reader anticipates. ThE only noble thing the safe choice can do is to acknowledge the futility of his chase and step aside, gaining the crowds approval by sacrificing his own love for the sake of the true, untamable passion between two people so torn apart when without the other.

Of course that's just a story. But it's all I have. And we all know how powerful stories, art, and music can be. Often, they hold more truth than fact.

I wonder if this is why I am always so tired.