The paranoid life

What was an answer to peace is a drivel now
What was exciting is a drudge now
What was a duvet is a rock now

I never could Figure Out the real purpose of me. I still can't  figure out. Answers demand writing so I guess writing has answers

If I peep into what made me this ugly antisocial brat would be starting four years back.

As a teenager with friends and not at all with the family I took life as a pink adventure full of girlies , when I never was that but I copied the lifestyles of my beautiful friends (beautiful physically). They wore trends , it suited them ; I wore trends, I looked funny. I thought may be m not beautiful so y amn't I???  But as time gives you answers I was never meant to be that..
I was ugly physically AND SOCIALLY.
But I AM UGLY PHYSICALLY BUT PRETTY IN HEARTS.
I have been struggling hard with being a credulous blab. I was criticized for this but I continued to be impervious . I was good , on that note if I give an example , if I am in the middle of he conversation at midnight and I yawn , I can't let the other person know that I can't talk , I ll talk unless the other person wants to sleep. Kinda "a can't say no person " and not a "don't care " chimp
I have a phobia of losing people when I have two or three left. It was or is my idiosyncrasy to make up with people whom I know for just one day. It was a nice habit I supposed but it led me to a notorious figure. 
My words were inaudible and my words, illegible. Panacea for it was love , my kinda love , the respect of "yes you are existing and it matters".
I became a facsimile of a begging freak. None exonerated me from my venial mistakes. 
Three years passed and the following year I isolated myself from the world . I thought of it to be a misanthropist and their criticism was a matricide. 
It was my father who never let me loose hope and worked with me a year. I introspected myself in prayers. I was wrong at being nice , a philanthropist , but was I actually wrong.???!!
I got admission in medicine , yeah made them proud , my parents proud , but I wasn't smiling at all , not happy at all ???!!!!  Cause I recall the things that happened ,everyday. I wanted to turn to a fatalist but couldn't. I have a great field ahead but I have no vision left. 
Valetudinarian I am , mentally sick. 
I just can't be a turncoat, infalliable, stoic, fastidious, but I can be a humanitarian, Samaritan. 
So I turned to an amateur , one of literature. 
I ll keep on writing, I don't know where the cynic person in me will die, but I won't stop writing.. And I ll celebrate the funeral with "My most beautiful words"