People Like You are Why People Like Me Exist

...never have I felt so lost.

So, I just cried in my shower for an hour.
This is the pain of college sucking. No one understands me, therefore I am totally alone. However, there are no private areas or anywhere to be physically by myself, and therefore, I can never switch off. The one benefit you can reap from being alone is that you never have to impress anyone, never have to strap on the "I am repressing the urge to kill and maim so I can get by in society" mask. I can't even take advantage of that.
Christ. What a ripoff.
Before you start shooting your collective interwebical mouth of about what a sadsack scene kid I am, let me try and detail to you just what the hell my problem is.
I am unemployed.
I am broke. (Meaning I don't have two dollars to go do my laundry with.)
I am friendless. (Meaning I can go through my entire day, start to finish, without talking to anyone, besides telling my roommate where I'm going or asking teachers questions in class.)
I am homeless. (I am no longer welcome in my father's house, as per his landlord being an old bitch, and my mother is sleeping on friend's couches in NYC, because she's not welcome there, either. My dorm is all I have.)
I am no longer a presence on the Eastern Shore, and the tethers of friendships there are beginning to corrode and snap from my absence. (The same goes for my band.)
I am aimless. (I have seriously lost track of where I'm going, who I am, who I want to be, what I want to do with my life.)
I am depressed. (Clinically diagnosed as such, before you write that off.)
And all the while, the cacophonous hum of memories lingers in my brain, with every footfall and every blink, with every experience I am inundated with older memories of older experiences reminding me how watered down these new memories are. I go to a show I've been anticipating for years, and the meaning of it, the passion I once felt is drowned in the deafening silence of the empty seats next to me. I try in vain to recreate the greatness I once felt making films with friends, but you can never go home, and I feel pathetic for having tried. I try to smile, I try to laugh, but the only things that move me are these memories so long past that they've become half true and half elaboration.
Imagine that you are traveling through the woods with friends. All day long, you walk, and then the sun starts to go down. It's time to leave. But you're all lost, you don't know where to go. You volunteer to start out ahead to try and find the way back, that you'll come back for your friends once you find the trail. As you travel through the woods alone, you hear the echoes of your friends, talking and laughing, as the forest gets deeper, and darker. You can see the light of a fire they started to keep warm, and all you want is to go back, but you can't. You have to find the way out. You go on. Thorny brushes cut through cloth and skin, trees pack in deeper and tighter, until you can barely breathe. It is now pitch black. You have no idea where you're going, if you can even go any farther. You just want one person, hell, one happy thought to cling to to make you stand up and keep walking. But there isn't anyone. You do the only thing you can, you turn around and run back towards your friends in the fire. You grasp that memory and as you run back through the forest you here their voices get louder and louder, you see the light from the fire get brighter, you remember the beginning of the day, joking and fighting and talking and dreaming and making plans, and you remember how good it feels to belong.
And then you realize you've arrived at the camp. The fire went out hours ago. Your friends are gone. To where and what purpose, you have no clue. But they've moved on, maybe to some other part of the woods, or maybe they got out. You certainly don't know. The point is they are gone. And the question you now have to ask yourself is, even if I can make it out of the woods by myself, is it worth being out there without them?
This is what I was thinking when I got into my shower at 8 tonight. This is what I thought when I went to the only place I know of where no one can hear my cry, no one can see me raw and exposed and open.
I still don't have an answer, and I don't know when I will.