rewrite best

It's exactly the same as when I lived in reality.
I only managed it before because I was forcing myself.

"I've been wasting all my energy."

My mouth opens for no particular reason.

"Honestly, all love is just a lie. Because I always value myself more than the person I love.
I care about myself more than anyone.
I help other people. If someone falls down on the roadside, I help them back up.
...but that's because it makes me feel good. I did something good. I'm a good person.
It feels good to help people.
I don't actually care about other people at all. I'm not honestly worried about them.
I'm just satisfying myself. I'm just being pragmatic.
I think a lot of people are like that. In fact, I can't imagine anyone would help people if they didn't feel any pleasure from it.
But that's not the problem. All living things satisfy their own desires.
Self-fulfillment is the ultimate objective of life.
Why is feigned beauty the only way to accomplish that?"

I ruminate on the words and narrow down my thoughts. It feels like the words are spread throughout the sky and an invisible hand is rummaging through them.

"...because we want to be accepted by the herd."

"I want everyone to praise me. To like me. I want to be popular. To be respected.
...I want a place where I belong."

That's right. Is that what I'm like?
A bud opens up inside my heart. A flower of foolishness blooms. A sad, yet comforting confession. It feels like penance.
I've been crying without realizing it.

"I wanted to be someone, because I knew how awkward and stupid I was.
I was worried that everyone might leave me someday. I was scared of being alone.
That's why I started the Occult Club. I'm so lame...
That whole thing was just a publicity stunt."

...

"Was I unhappy when I had such a weak, little heart?
But when I did become someone, I didn't regret it at all.
Once I'm satisfied I don't regret anything."

...

I feel like someone's blaming me for something.
I did my best to live, and I died. That applies to every version of me.

"I'm just one small human. I did what little I could to live. That's all. I know I ended up in some crazy situations, but I was always just a side character.
Just one individual.
Why have I been banished to a place like this?"

...

I hold my head. This is pathetic. But who cares?
There's no society here. No herd to seek approval from.
There's no consequence for being completely honest with myself.
Yes, this is the real me. A timid, cowardly soul who cares way too much about what others think.
And who doesn't ask for much in return.
I hate myself. So much that I could cry.
I wanted to change, but all my efforts amounted to nothing. I wail, I lament.
I wish I could just disappear. I'm always small, pathetic, and useless.

I have nothing left anymore. Not even the love I was showing with fake smiles, scripted words, and bad acting.
I've lost everything.

"What do you want!? What the hell are you?!"