I am a mystery to me. I cannot understand why I am a never-ending wealth of moods. I know that my wall is my loneliness. My wall is my needing.
If I were simply alone I would be fine because there would be no one to fear. I am so scared of being loved. I do not know why of all the things that I fear that that should truly be my most utter desperate of all phobias?
What is it to be loved? Why am I still punishing myself? What did I do? Why can I not allow myself to be so happy?
I grow so unhappy over absolutely nothing. I make me unhappy. I have done this before.
What is love? Truly what is love? I am utterly terrified of simply not being enough for anyone ever. I have no choice for some reason. My subconscious would rather me be alone than not be enough. I am torn beyond shreds. No matter what I have done or what I have come to understand I stay here in angst because of everything. I have been through so much and yet I am not always through with it. I have to desire change.
September 9, 2003