When We Don't Know Who To Hate, We Hate Ourselves

I don't know how I feel about things. Everything...

I feel oddly alone, yet I know there are people there for me. This is no slight to them. I love them, truly love them. The deepest kind of love. The kind of love that we hope to find in our girlfriends or boyfriends, but never will. Oddly, I have found lately there to be an overabundance of this kind of love in my life. It is great. It is wonderful. It is something rare for the rest of the world apparently, but I have an abundance of it in my life.
The grass is truly greener on the other side, so it seems. I get to look at myself in the mirror and not have to confront some of the demons my friends have had to deal with. I am not saying that the demons aren't there, but mine remain trapped in my head. My imagination is my greatest demon. The thoughts that run through my head scare me and intrigue me all at the same time. They are such a mish mash of the acceptable and unacceptable. Even the socially acceptable thoughts seem unacceptable to me.
All of this brings me to where I am now. I have no idea what I want and it seems like I am too scared to go out and find it.

Just a thoughts of the moment. I don't even know if that was coherent...