Terrible

Okay, so, I get it.
I get that you're all fucking perfect. That you know exactly what to do, where to go. I get that you've got flaws and insecurities. I get that you're happy anyway. I get that you walk the halls knowing where the fuck you're going, with friends and whatever-the-fuck-else-you'll-have.
I get that you have off days, where everything is utter shit, but... is it really utter shit?
No, well, yes.
But you don't get it.

I walk the halls with a slight limp, because the bandage wrapped around my ankle only absorbs half the pain, and I still feel the burning. I don't know where the fuck to go, even if I've got a map and a schedule; I'm still. fucking. lost. I've...well, yeah. No shit! I've got flaws and insecurities. I'm built of them, one problems stuffed and glued onto another, holding me together just-barely so you've got to be ever-so-careful when you speak to me, because I could fall apart completely at the slip of a word.
And...well, it's sad. It's sad because I don't really get it at all.
I understand you're all completely different from me. I understand you're all happy at some point, you're all whatever and that keeps you fine. 
But the fact is I'm not whatever.
I'm just...I'm...

I don't even know but I hate every second of it, and every time I go to sleep, there's no sodding way I want to wake.

Why.
That's my question.
Why can't I be fine-just-fine? Why can't I have one day where words come normally, and I don't have to think in overdrive just to say fucking hello!?
This is ridiculous.
Pathetic.

I'm terrible.
Fucking...terrible.