Sometimes I feel as though a pitch black ravine exists in my soul, and it only becomes more impossible to fill as I grow older in age and spirit. Even now as I write this I feel empty, as though I am half a person. It has become a constant wonder, whether or not one exists in the world such as I, or if I have already found my counterpart and lost them through acts of foolishness. Though the next contemplation is entirely possible, that I am incapable of love, and that it only exists in my world as another fantasy beyond my grasp.

I left home today, with the implied notation that I am less than worthless. It seems that somehow I always prove to be a disappointment, a lost cause to those whom know me. Strangely I believe it is plausible that I am as worthless as been implied, but in some ways I must be better than others. I could care less if I had more money than I can do with, that I become rich and famous… all I have ever wanted since I was a child was to be loved by the people that matter in my life, to love them in return and be happy in perfect bliss. Why would any person need more than that?