I'm alone, wolf

The hardest thing to do in life is to live it. After many years of being an open book, it is time to close my tome. The friends i used to value so dearly, the ones i shared my most precious of all gifts, my life, are gone. They've moved on, away, to bigger and better things, and i do not blame them. Sometimes i can tell they look back and see me in the distance, a memory of a friend they once knew. Now, holding them at arm's length, hidden within the confines of the fortress i built based on the countless lies i've told over the years to protect myself, i find that i am no more. I once defined myself by my friends, relying on them to perpetuate my story long after i had vanished, but it's over. One day i locked myself into the closet with the one skeleton i could not show, and vanished forever behind the masquerade i now call life.

How do i dig through 3 years of lies and make things right again? Is it even possible? I suppose there's no point now, as i have strayed too far from the flock. I submit.