This work in progress is me. Sometimes I'm weird and sometimes I'm normal. I give more than I expect. I am insecure about things people don't even know exist and confident about things that people cry themselves to sleep over. I have fight, I have will, I have strength. I have regret, I have agony, I have scars. At times, I hate myself so much that it makes me laugh. At times, I love myself so much it makes me sad. I hate the idea of love, but love the act of it. I want so many things that I know once I have I will find miserable. I'm ashamed of more than half the thoughts I have on a daily basis. I ignore things that make me upset and tell myself lies to make the pain less severe. Sometimes, I tell myself painful lies that don't exist to pretend like I can handle it if it becomes reality. Out of the hundreds of people I've met, only four understand me and the "me" they understand is the "me" they've created in their own minds. No one understands me.
I don't understand me.
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