"Skip to the ending... I'd like to know. Author of the moment, can you tell me? Do I end up happy?"

"Skip to the ending... I'd like to know. Author of the moment, can you tell me? Do I end up happy?"

It's weird... as much as I love stories and happy endings, I can't really see myself wanting to know how my story will end. Mostly because I'm pretty sure it'll be the exact same way as it is now: me having everything I could possibly need, the possibility to have what I desire if I work hard for it, yet me never being truly happy. I feel spoiled and bratty, and often bitchy. I snap at people who are my friends and family and who want to help me. I can't let myself be happy because every single thought in my head just brings me down. Looking at my brothers and their autism, I wonder if I have my own mental problems. Depression never scared me. But schizophrenia? I'm not really one to self-diagnose, and I hate when people try to solve other people's problems without even knowing all the symptoms, but if I had to say what was ailing me, I'd say schizophrenia is a close one.

Right now, I am debating whether or not to break up with my boyfriend, not because he has done anything wrong because he hasn't, but because this whole thing is stressing me out to no end. He'd understand, and I know a lot of my friends have seen this coming, but I really don't know how he would react. Of course, I won't actually do this. I'll chicken out as always. I can't figure out if my chickening out of everything is a good thing or not.