The Light I see at the end of the Tunnel turns out to be a Freight Train Overwhelmed by Ned Vizzini

I'm writing and writing. About others, about nonsense, so i can forget about myself. I know I live in my head. I talk to myself. That only started recently. I haven't left the apartment in three months. I haven't showered in nine days. The restaurants I get my food from don't take the time anymore to do a good job. They are taking liberties, because I'm a nice guy. I don't complain. Timid I am. For what is a man who kneels and doesn't say how he feels. Not much of a man. Why was I born? What were they thinking creating me? They were doing me a favour? You should have gotten a cat and left me alone. Leave me alone.