Poor Pitiful Me!

I honestly wish I was just posting another one of my stories, but unfortunately it's not. I don't care if anyone ever see's anything that I've posted or written. I don't care if I ever get a comment on anything. I don't care any more. I'm done, I can't take it any more. I'm sick and tired of pretending like everything in my life is okay when it feels like its falling apart. I'm tired of feeling the way I'm feeling. In truth I feel so broken, physically and mentally.
I have always held back trying to spare others from my pitiful little world when they have their own to deal with. But where does that leave me? Me with no one to talk to or turn to when I have a problem. I have tried so hard to figure things out for myself, but I end up falling on my butt because I screwed up. And on top of that I have no one there to tell me what I did wrong, so I keep making the same mistakes over and over.
So this is my pathetic story of woe, yea me!
Lately I've been really thinking about my life and what little I have done in the last 18 years. How could you even consider my life worth living? I started college and started a dance class, and I ended up loving it. And every time I would come home bruised and sore my mom would say " I told you so..." But I didn't care I wanted to dance. I didn't go because I wanted to learn about Jazz dance, I went  because  I wanted to learn how to dance on Broadway. But little did I know what dancing was doing to my body.
I was born with flat feet and I excepted that, I didn't think it mattered much. There are tons of dancers with flat feet. But apparently every time I did a chasse or jete I was pretty much landing on my joints and bones, with nothing there to adsorb the shock. On top of that I broke my ankle twice when I was little and have really weak ankles. Now I sprained my ACFL ligament in my left foot.
The doctor told me that my foot was like a rubber band that has been stretched out too much and can't hold anything together anymore. I don't need surgery, but he did say that it would have been better to break it. How could I not know about this? And now just when I find out that I'm some what good at dancing they tell me I can't do it anymore. I can't dance.
I have been hurting my entire life. From my neck, and my back, and my feet. And for once I just wanted the pain to be worth something.
I can't break down and I can't cry, no matter how much I really want to. I have isolated myself for too long and can no longer find comfort in my solitude. But what is it that I'm afraid of? Why can't I reach out? If anyone could answer these questions then maybe I could start fixing myself.