I'm just tired, a short story

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Why is it so tough to focus on being a better person? I’m trying hard, but it often feels like I’m going against the tide. It's overwhelming trying to align my actions with my values and be the person I want to be. I'm scared to tell them, for I'm not sure how they would react. I don't want them to think it's their fault, because it's not. I just wish I could actually have an actual conversation with them. I want them to not ignore me. I no longer want to feel like a stranger in my own house. These walls that are supposed to feel like home have started to feel more like a cage, and I long for a time when our home felt warm and inviting. I miss the laughter and the shared moments—those little everyday interactions that used to fill our space with connection. I can’t help but wonder if they even notice how different things have become. I know it is my fault that it's this way. I make stupid decisions, I lie, I steal, and I ruin relationships. I guess I do it for attention, for them to talk to me. I've been ignored for so long that I resort to negative interaction then nothing. I would rather have them scream in my face than feel like a stranger. I miss laughing with my mom about stupid interactions. I miss spending time with my dad and just talking about life. I miss sitting in my mom's car listening as she talks about her work.

I miss being heard.

Everything is different now. I sit in silence in the car, the hum of the engine blending into the background as my thoughts swirl around me like a soft fog. Outside, the world rushes by—trees, buildings, and people all a blur—yet I feel detached as if I'm observing it all from a distance.
I find myself in my room, alone. The walls, once a comfort, now feel confining. I glance around at the familiar surroundings: the books stacked haphazardly on my desk, the pictures that once inspired me now seeming dull and lifeless. These walls used to spark joy but now only bring sadness. I collapse onto my bed, staring at the ceiling, searching for answers in the shadows dancing across the textured surface. I find nothing. I have no idea how to fix what I've done. I lay there for hours, cars pass by in the night leaving lights to dance around my walls. It only lasts a moment and then it's gone leaving me back in the darkness, being swallowed by my own thoughts.

I just want to go to sleep, which in this state feels almost impossible. To escape this world, even if its only for a moment. I'm just tired, I promise.