How to stop pretending?

I want to be honest. It is not something that comes easily to me. Or at least something I have trained myself to loose. I am not okay. But what am I? I have been avoiding my flat mates, I don't remember the last time I saw anyone, I just hide in my room all day and scavenge at night.

My need is such, I pretend too much, I'm lonely but noone can tell.

I am depressed. I don't think I've said this, like at all. It's so easy to just answer fine when someone asks me how I am. It goes down a lot better than a truthful answer. I generally expect people not to care. They ask after you because this is what you do. Not because they are genuinely interested in your well being. Don't be crazy! I guess this is why we get scared when people do care, when people listen and actually want to know. But that's not my problem at the moment. I do not know where to start. My feelings are irrational. They do not make sense to me, let alone anyone else. So how do you tell someone how you are feeling, without expecting too much of them but in an honest way.

I'm trying to word God thought. But I do not know where I am going with any of my musings. Yes. No. I shall not.

I was sure I had a lot to say some hours ago. But now it is 3am and I am nowhere near to wanting to sleep nor to thinking anything that isn't purely negative comments about myself.
I am feeling really quite low again. In an angry way.

Tomorrow I am going to start reading Harry Potter again. I look forward to it. Or try to. Reading is a lot of effort. Harry Potter was easier than most books that are acceptable for grown up children to read. I was named and shamed in 2nd year for reading a Jacqueline Wilson book, I think that was when I stopped reading out of choice on the whole. Ms McNiel. Terrifying woman. Liked to shout. I mentored her regi class in 5th and 6th year and was always scared to go into the class incase she ate me. She also often mistook me for a 1st year and shouted at me for wearing face paint, musical socks, a smile, and kissing the boys. I think I would not like to be a teacher because the children would hate me and I am fearty of going into a school ever again. Hate.

Take another shot of courage, wonder why the right words never come...

Will I ever be good enough?