In writing.

I'm not so sure about the future anymore. With every little problem going on in the world to every little problem going on in my head, it all adds up to one big problem I can't escape. What happened to me? What happened to us? This might just be the beginning of the end, for me at least. Everyday is like a bullet in the head and another knife at the throat of hope. See? This is what I mean. Scattered thoughts for a cluster fuck of a life that is mine. I wish things were easy. I wish I could explain with out saying too much or too little. Or I wish I can just be happy with the way things are in life. But I was never one to take things the easy way. Insecurities are building up in me. I don't want them to share the moments we have. I don't want to share the same thoughts as them. I know I'm not in love and I'm afraid it will always be a one way road. And at the risk of sounding trite, it's not you it's me. I'm incapable of ever loving someone. You deserve someone who can do the same to you as you do to me. I'm incomplete, eternally.