This Infinite Mediocrity

What time is it here in my mediocre world? I suppose the time doesn't matter quite so much. Everything is so bland, lifeless, colourless. Time is relative in the infinity of my sorrow. Just another day in my baseless existence as an unremarkable female human. My world used to be bright and beautiful but now it is filled with meaningless shapes and cold realities. I once dreamed so hard that even the harshness of life couldn't touch my hope. But now here I am living the dread life of the hopeless. I have been cursed with this needy lust for intimate human contact since my horrible fate has befallen me. A cycle of worthlessness and heartache is beginning to consume me. The intimacy only fills me with joy until I am no longer of worth to the interested party. I'm on the edge of the world ready to jump off into nothingness. I am disposable. I can be loved for a night, a day, or a week but eventually I will be thrown away because I'm nothing special. My life is spiraling deeper into self-loathing. I try to claw my way out. I can be happy for a time but something always snatches my happiness away. I reach out and cry for help. No one comes. I am so alone here in this infinite mediocrity.