Why was I never loved?

It seems almost impossible for a person to not recieve love. But my parents only use me as a vessel to realize their own ambitions. But my brother only seems to care about his own adventures. And all my forays into the world of dating have come up empty handed, whether thwarted by my own hand or the universe's.

And so, the only thing I have come to love is my own downfall.

I have been sickly enamoured with the notion that I am not long for this world. It has come to a point where vivid escapades of my own death are the only thoughts that will placate me in the face of severe adversity. By all means, this is not healthy or reasonable, but it is objectively impossible to call my mind healthy or reasonable in this sorry state.

Even then, my only saving grace are my friends. But even then, as they become more entangled with the dance of adult life, I feel myself barely afloat, adrift in the vast ocean of loneliness.

There's not much tethering me to this world anymore. I have no purpose nor have I found one, I have nobody to stay here for, and there is not anything substantial I wish to experience before I go. Many a day I have thought to myself that I could die happy tomorrow without a worry in the world.

All I can do is numb the pain and wake up an equally feckless human as the day before.