For I could stand to lose all things except my sense of self

It's an interesting place to be in, when you know you need to write, but you have no idea what to say.

Or better yet, you know exactly what you want to say, but you have no idea how to say it.

I've been thinking a lot lately about life, and plans, and decisions, and my penchant towards hastiness and impulsivity.

And my conclusion is that it is one of the things that I love the most about myself.

But while I feel it is my blessing, I also know it is as much my curse.

Because when I move along, there are usually bodies in my wake.

And over time, this causes me to look at myself and ask my heart what in the hell it's doing.

And I need to know if I'm the only one who thinks this way.

Am I the only one this crazy?

Sometimes I feel like I am.

And most times, I'm okay with being alone in that.

But occasionally, when misunderstood, I find myself wishing I could quiet certain doubts by being the same as everyone else.

But I think if I even took a step towards that, I would slowly die.

For I could stand to lose all things, except my sense of self.

And if it means the loss of things in order to keep my sense of self, so be it.

I will not fight against who I am. I spent a hell of a long time doing that, and an even longer time observing people around me doing that and it makes me want to scream and cry and punch... something. I don't know. It gives me a violent reaction. It makes my pulse race. It scares the living shit out of me.

For I could stand to lose all things, except my sense of self.

I could stand to lose all things, except my sense of self.

I could stand to lose all things, except my sense of self.