I can never leave well enough alone. I always push, always want more than is there to be had. Some of that comes from a deep feeling that every person I truly care for is going to leave me. If they see the part of me they’ll hate, they’ll leave.  Or instead, I choose to associate with people who don’t want me, or are taken in some way.  Be it their own lives, their relational entanglements, or their mental state. And if, by some miracle, I find someone who likes me, I will push and push for more and more until they have no choice but to walk away or sacrifice their own sanity, which I’ll see and walk away to save them.  I don’t know how to stop this.  I think I’ve learned, each time and each time I fuck up.  Now, the fuck ups are all a little different. But, they are variations on the theme. The happier I am, the more likely I am to self sabotage.

The other part comes from seeing myself as a monster. For the things I’ve done and the things I’m capable of.  For who could love a monster, such as I.  And if you could, why? Pity? Martyrdom? I won’t have love from either. 

At the end of the day, I’m fucked up. And despite how much less fucked up I am now, as compared to when I started this journey, I still have a long road. A long road I fear I’ll never see the end of.