are people even real?

just thinking of this some random morning, just.. realising that us humans are so unreal. so complex. you never know what's going on with another person unless they tell you, and that's unreal to me. it's unreal to me that i'm doing the same thing as most people wouldn't do, like that's crazy to think about, to think about the face you have a choice in what you do, no matter how much people force you. the people who care about me keep trying to pry and force my thoughts out of me, like a cat trying to claw it's way out of a cage. it's frustrating to feel so many emotions at the same time, sadness and anger, then guilt and then frustration. frustration because if someone else did this to me, kept their emotions bottled up and locked themselves in a cage far away from everyone else... i would be upset too. i would be upset at myself for the things i do.
and writing this long paragraph, i feel like i need to emphasize that even if i don't feel loved, or like anything exists, including people, people who actually care about me.. i think there are people who care about others. about you reading this. i don't think anyone deserves to feel the way i feel, to want to push everyone away and just curl up into a ball and die. it's a vulnerable feeling indeed, but.. i feel empathy for other people who act like i do.
as a result, maybe people aren't real? but who cares. the world exists, and that's one thing i know for sure.