My Way

     I'm beginning to see that nomatter what I do, with good intentions or otherwise, I can't please anyone when I make all my decisions based on what I think other people would prefer.  The problems for me is that I don't know how to do things just for myself...because I have lost myself.  I don't know who I am because all I've ever been is what I think other people want me to be.  I don't know where to begin.

     My heart hurts.  I am, like a fool, repeatedly disappointed by the selfishness of others.  Don't get me wrong, I know it is human nature to be selfish, and I don't think I'm immune to it, but I cannot in good conscience ignore the needs of those around me if it is within my power to meet them.  I do this, often times to my own detriment.  I understand there needs to be a balance.  I don't understand how a friend could go to a social function before coming to help me when I'm sick.  I wouldn't be able to enjoy going out for worrying.  I cannot influence the nature of those around me, yet I cannot avoid my disappointment.  How do I still expect that people will treat me as they'd like to be treated?  I'm not stupid...yet my emotion and my logic refuse to coincide.  

     I suppose that's that's why I doubt my sanity lately...All the turmoil between my good nature and this cruel world.  I feel stupid for being such a bleeding heart...one of those people who feels everything so intensely.  I shouldn't have to apologize for caring too much...should I?

     All this pain...I think and write repeatedly that I don't know what to do with it.  That I don't know why I've been through all of this.  Well, maybe I'm starting to see that I needed it.  I haven't let it kill me, but it's now broken things down to a point where simplicity reigns.  It's just me now...I know I can be alone.  I should do what I want, my way, and see what happens.  Can I love myself if no one else does?  Who am I without outside validation?  I don't know yet but I'm going to find out.  

     I'm finding so much truth in all this tragedy.  I feel so passionate when I write all this down.  I've never even found a single person who cares to read it, and still, my entire life I've been baring my soul in ink.  Because it makes me feel....not exactly happy...it just feels like what I need to do. 

     Maybe I should stop being so logical.  Maybe there's not a logical reason for everything.  Human nature has to come in as a variable in some cases right?  I think I'm going to try just doing whatever feels right for me at that moment, and see what happens.