/siberia/ - Off-topic

To start this, I do not know how to start.
No words can accurately describe how I feel as the languages of man exist in such a manner which cannot fully capture the human condition. I write this with fumbling fingers and a shaky heart, as there is no other way to begin a letter to myself and perhaps an analysis of my experience of the human struggle.
I find it necessary to preface this massive embarrassing text with a few notes on the situation itself, my person, the subject of my fixation, and the questions which I believe to be relevant in my rant which itself is a question of what is to be done, and what I must do.

I am 22 years of age, my occupation is nothing of note, my family life is horrible and barely what is considered a family beyond blood relation, my sexual life is nonexistent even self-abusive in a way, my aspirations are fragmented and constantly dismissed, my personality is that of a meek pushover in face to face meetings and a loud persistent and dedicated speaker, I have never been in a relationship and do not know if I could ever say I have had a true friend.

The "subject of my fixation," this is embarrassing and I think inappropriate label I have given to a person who has so much to say and such a wonderful personality. To limit such a person to a fickle and abusive label such as "subject of my fixation" hardens my heart and I cannot continue to use it, instead I will use a name which could only resemble the immense personality of this person, Arete, meaning in greek "excellence or virtue." Arete is 22, occupation of a store clerk, education in college though she has a history of being short with grades and skipping I have encouraged her to pursue her education further, I know little of her sexual life and I won't even start to think of it, I know some of her relationships, her friendships are vast and intimate, many are attracted to her kind personality which is full of humor and nurturing spirit, the intricate story of her life cannot be simply spoken here nor could it be spoken in form as it is not simply a story of someone's life but the deep wealth of her personality reflecting in all those she knows and all that she does. The small puddle which is myself cannot express the vast ocean she is, supplemented by a firm mountain of personality which melts into the waters of her life.

The relevant questions, i'm not too entirely sure. I believe this is most what I need and why I write this, to understand what I want, to gather from peers and from strangers their experiences to help my current. I do not want to stay away from Arete, I have tried many times and each experience breaks me and crumbles my heart, I want to see Arete live her life fully, to be a strong independent person and achieve her aspirations, the development and fulfillment of her life has been the only reason as to why I continue on since I met her. My heart exists only to beat and my mind has been enthralled in every aspect of her life large or small.

I met Arete around two years ago, at first I felt a small attraction just physical in nature eventually dismissing it. As time went further I have grown an emotional attachment which is not reciprocated and I suspect her entire reason for continuing to speak to me is out of pity, recently she expressed the want to leave discord entirely but stated "My being your friend makes me feel obligated to stay here." I have a history of leaving discord abruptly and cutting many people off, my most recent effort in this I couldn't bare it and began writing letters to Arete, around 15 and about a page length in each. They were mostly innocent but harbored a small hint of yearning while describing my feelings and thoughts about the mundane, political, and film hobbies, in all honesty I have no idea if she even received them, or read them, I included no return address and we have no spoken about them, if she had read them she chose not to speak about it entirely. Around a year ago I met Arete in person, I acted as I act commonly which includes paying for dinners, making frequent city excursions, and participating in tourist traps which I have no true care for but instead I attempted to get Arete out of the house and she described being a homebody. Before I met her I did confess, a bad and poor confession, I hate it and hate myself for it. She did not reciprocate, saying she felt similar but had no intentions to go further.
I suspect I know why I am choosing to write this, I am in pain, this is hurting me yet I want it so badly, I yearn to experience any interaction with Arete even if it hurts me further. I have never felt this way before, or even felt anything for another person before and I do not know why I feel this way now. Recently I learned Arete visited a mutual "friend" (I have no friendship with this person and simply tolerate their pitiful existence within our circle) this "friend" and Arete had an experience which I don't care to describe, this drunken pig who I can only describe as a slut, drunk, and abusive person… I cannot describe this situation further without becoming greatly upset. I'm unsure what to do further, my daily thoughts are only occupied by Arete, I try to read theory, as I am an avid reader and I think of Arete, I try to sleep and I shoot up in the night thinking of that disgusting pig's hands on Arete and then can no longer sleep. I make my mind submit with apple wine which is killing me further, I read Leon Trotsky and in his frequent descriptions of love I begin to tear up, this old fool he describes love in such a wonderful way but it is torture to those who love.
I am undeserving of my life, each day I wake from my few hours of sleep to examine my pale and skinny body with disgust. I worship someone who thinks nothing of me, this does not depress me but the fact that I contain not an ounce of worth to Arete does.
What do I want? What do I feel?
What is it to live a life of not love, because love in mutual instead of my poison stare, but a life of what cannot be described.
I am looking for a way out other than suicide, which I have felt so deeply driven to by the failures of my life, and my embarrassing unreciprocated devotion.