rollercoaster of my reality

The rollercoaster of my self-image. One moment, I feel appreciated by many. Admired, even. The next, I feel pitied. Not worth a genuine smile. Unable to play the game. To tell the difference between attraction and sympathy. Oh, end it now. This orchestral oscillation of extremes. So loud and distracting. What if? What if, what if, what if? I see with each lens and I can not tell which is more real. Is that a symptom? I try to see myself through your eyes. It's not possible. I'm only looking through assumed judgment. That's why I need validation. The foundation of my reality shifts with ease. I don't know which emotions to feel. You seem steady. Until we talk. You start to admit you think the way I do, sometimes. I start to realize this is a symptom of lonely isolation. I wouldn't know if you'd be lying. Am I interpreting correctly? Are you uncomfortable with the uncertainty of reality, or are you uncomfortable lying to placate my vision? Who would be able to tell the difference between those two? Is it as incredible as it seems to me? Those minute observations made with such certainty, backed by experiential evidence. I doubt everything. I realize how dim the world is that I know. I imagine the many concrete memories that flow through your mind. How you pick one out simply to relive it in its fullness. You remember every detail, you don't realize how special it is. Or you do. I don't know which is worse. Ask me a question, watch my face. It's all that I do every single day. I see the electricity coursing throughout your body. How you wield it so effortlessly. I hunger for that. I am a half-baked parody of a man, if I can work up the nerve. I'd prefer not to be so deeply insecure. I want somebody to be so baffled by this that it awakens my mind to the realization that I am normal. Normal, just deeply flawed. Maybe even interestingly so. Intriguing. Even this mess of delusion and cognitive excrement desires care and appreciation. If delusion is what it is. I only use that word to attempt to stabilize my ego. It's easier to be delusional than it is to be right. How can I live, if I am this way? Why has nobody told me? Am I so oblivious to the signs? Run to me and give me a hug. Stop. Don't pity me. But I'm in pain. Pain has its place and earns the relationships that ease it.