I’m Losing Myself

I don’t know why I do the things is do. I don’t know why I think how I think. I don’t know why I’m so sensitive. I don’t know why I love with all my heart and soul. But in the process I’ve lost my dignity, my strength, and my manliness. I want to meet Jesus, assuming he’s my maker. When I do I’m going to ask him where I went wrong. I’m sure he’ll have no problem telling me how it is. I just hope he doesn’t banish me from eternal life because I pissed the one he gave me down my leg. Being in love is the most intense shit I’ve ever experienced. I’d rather be in a gunfight every day for a year than feel anymore pain from this thing called “love.” I can’t let her go, I can only let me go. If Jesus grants me life with him after death I suppose I can figure all this out then. In the meantime the real question is “how long should I give it my all before I give up?” How long should I strive to be better? A great man who gave his life for his country once said “we are never out of the fight.” But I’m not a great man anymore, so it seems a little ridiculous to live by those words, especially since I think about death every single day. So I guess I’ll keep hurting those around me for no reason. I’ll let them watch me decompose from the inside out. This should be fun.