One's Self Observed.

I really am at a constant war with myself. The more I think, it seems, the less I truly know. I haven't quite decided if I'm too over analytical or if I'm too impulsive. Honestly, I'm pretty sure I'm both. I'm not quite sure how that works. I get lost inside my own head so much, you'd think I'd know me pretty well by now. But, I still learn knew things about myself in the weirdest ways. I haven't quite decided if I'm too honest about myself, or if I'm not honest enough. Sometimes, I think I'm the only one I'm lying to. I'm so fucking indecisive about everything. Especially how I feel about others. That's the real grey area here. Sometimes, I can't get enough of someone, yet sometimes, I feel like I can't get away from them quick enough. I will, at times, feel like I care too much for someone, and get stupid about it and tell them everything. I believe that life would be so much easier if I could just remain unattached from all that surrounds me, and subject myself to it at my own will. But alas, it's not. I care too much for people, usually the wrong ones, and I always find a way to make it interesting. And by make it interesting, I mean fuck it up.

My dwindling faith in human interaction.

Throughout all of my personal experiences, observations and encounters with closely knit human interaction, I can only draw one conclusion: inevitable demise. I have been told all my life by the books I have read, songs I have listened to and the people whom which I have confided that attitude manifests one's destiny; that belief in one's ability to succeed and/or be happy relies solely upon their positive or negative outlook on the situation as a whole. I am beginning to believe more and more all the time that it's a bunch of Disney movie bullshit. Take the typical failed human relationship for instance: girl loves boy, boy loves girl too, but not as much, and vise/versa. These details can vary. The point being, it's becoming to seem more and more impossible to find an equality in mutual compassion between two humans. The term "love" is so overdrawn and so cliche, I believe we, as a society, haven't the slightest clue of its meaning, ability and maybe even its existence. What defines love anyway? Security? Lust with some form of dependability attached to it? My encounters with this word and its different definitions have all lead me back to one place in the end, and that's right back to where I started. To be honest, I'd love for someone to prove me wrong. Your move.