It hurts, it hurts, it hurts so badly inside of me. And what do I do I ask you? What do I do I ask me I sit, and I dont cry, and I continue to torture myself. But why do I hold everything that eats me up, inside. You would think if you were in a box with ants eating at you youd get out of the box or let the ants out. But no, I keep my tears in and they continue to sting the backs of my eyes, I keep what troubles me in, and it continues to burn at the enigmatic thing that is accredited to making humans, humans. At times I think I know what it is, sometimes, I almost think I could put me finger on that wonderfully inscrutable thing. Every time I think, that I could somehow grasp that impenetrable thing inside me, it is because, and only because, it hurts so badly, there could be no way to miss it.

But given self-psychoanalysis, I have to ask myself why I hurt, why I wont let my hurt out, and why I cant find someway to just not hurt in the first place. So I start with why I hurt. Could it be because I feel like I cant tell anyone that I hurt in the first place? Or maybe my family causes my pain? No, no, no dang it! It all comes back to my need to be loved. Or perhaps my plain and simple desire to feel loved? However, every time I come back to this conclusion, I must ask myself, scold myself, and I reem myself time after time. I'm backtracking yet again; depending on someone else for something that I should be depending on myself for. Why aren't I!?

So again I sit down. Maybe I could ask *Seth to wait for me. For me to have enough time to love myself again, or maybe he's the reason why I stopped in the first place. Maybe, because he didn't see me as often as I think he should have, or didn't talk to me as long on.... say Friday as I would have liked him to. Or maybe, just maybe, because he didn't kiss me good bye long enough yesterday, I have decided that I am not worthy. I decided, at no fault of actually on his part, I decided that I am not good enough for myself, so I must look for gratification, fufilment and love, from someone other than myself. But I must also adress my insecurity to the fact, that even if I did ask him to wait for me to love myself, even if it only took a week which is comon time for him to not talk to me because of a whim, that he wouldn't wait for me. Instead he would go out and find someone else more fitting, more lovable, more pretty, more mature, or more whatever that is not me. Just maybe, I'm not good enough for him. And if I'm not good enough for him, how can I possibly hope to be good enough for myself?

So I sit here, time and time again day after day and night after sleepless, restless, painful night, typing and writing and talking to myself, no other reason than parhaps an empty hope that all of this will better myself. Maybe I don't have to tell Seth to wait for me to love myself, maybe I can love myself during one or more of the weeks he decides not to talk to me. Now, I think I realize... Losving myself, or even letting go and not needing to love myself is not important. Maybe, just maybe, I should let life be in the way that it has decided to be, when it has decided to be, how it has decided to be, without trying to control it.

Now I must ask myself why I need to love myself. Is it because I feel that not only from what others have told me but what I have thought I found in myself that I needed to be able to love myself to be able to love someone else. But why need to love, or trust, someone else or even myself. The further I go in to my mind, the more clearly blury things become.

I had decided a while ago that the epitomy of happiness; for me, is to know my mind. And maybe that's all I need. Maybe I don't need anything. Maybe my life is nothing. Maybe everyone's life is nothing. Maybe, I don't exist. Who knows maybe no one exists. Who knows what this; this life as we call it... the world or universe as we precive it; is. One thing is for sure I don't trust science. But on the same note I don't trust religion. I don't believe that nothing imploded to create the "Big Bang Theory", or even that "God"
said "Bang" and it happened. No, not at all. It suits my pointless existance just fine to believe that this is nothing. That my life is just that; Nothing. To pray and hope, to whatever power may or may not be, is perfect how it is because it'll never be anything but what it is, and there for being what it is and all that it can be. I am perfect. My dearly beloved, you are in the presence of a God... of a Goddess, however you want to word, phrase, or paraphrase it. I am a God, because I am perfect. "I always do the right thing you see, and the right thing is everything that takes me where I'm going to be. I can be everything; but the thing is... I don't have to be anything for you" Wise words you say? That is for you, or even me to still decipher. Maybe, they came from me.... But what if they didn't. What if' I'm not here....

One sleep deprived hour of one day co-existing with all the rest that makes up what biologists and psychiatrists and doctors call my life... In that sleep deprived hour I came up with this. This citically named slelf-psychoanalysis. And the farther I dig, the more I know. I am nothing. I'm sorry to say, but neither are you. If Alexamder Grahm Bell didn't come up with the phone, we all know, that someone else would have. So how do we know... That everyone who has come up with these revolutions and discoveries and ideas, and epiphonies.... How do we know, that if they didn't, that someone else wouldn't have come up with it anyway.

I always hate to make it sound like I discount anyone else's existance, but my life exists in my mind, and so do you. Because outside of my knowledge of what you've done and what you've told me, or where/ when I met you... You don't exist to me. Maybe outside of my conscious, I don't exist to me. If you don't see, you don't know. And I'm not talking about seeing Madame Currie actually study with radiation and the like... I'm just talking about hearing about it in text books.

Although I'm still not sure where I stand on religion, which I guess would make my religion agnosit; ponder this: Why do so many people have problems believing that Jesus existed, that he died, that God once existed, and made the Earth, When I went to school everyday and heard about this person or that whom made this discovery or that; whatever. I am supposed to throw my hands in the air and believe 'science' when in actuallity, who knows that science is not flawed, just from one mistake someone made at the beginning of science, that no one was educated enough to know... or informed or enlightened enough to disprove that that's not how something works. Maybe everything is an illusion. Maybe these so-called theories, are just theories, as opposed to facts. How can anyone ever pretend to know about life. I don't, and I don't believe anyone who thinks they do know about life. Because life as we call it, is an enigma in itself. I don't know, you don't know. That's why we still call it the "miracle" of life. Because we just don't know enough? Just let it go. Let me be me and you be you and life be life.

Who needs to know, even yourself who 'you' supposadly is. Or who needs to know, even myself, who I am. Can I figure it out for sure? Of corse not. Can I try? I will. Let me let go. "God" or whatever, or presedent of where ever... please let me know me if nothing else. All I ask is that to be happy. Let me live and let live. I don't ask to have true enlighenment or omnipitancy, all I have ever wanted ever since I can remember is to be happy. I will strive until I die to achieve this. Let me go... let me let life go. I know I can, I know everyone else can. But please let me learn. Let me be happy and live and so fourth and so on. I give you my word I will never be anything but me... But dear Lord and God almighty.... Let me be me...

I sit amungst the chaosAnd all through it I will enjoy life. Even if it kills me.... Here I come, I'm forming small words.....