Tragic Happiness

I cannot say, and it's hard to even know, what is really going on with me. All I can love to do is delve into those every feeling.

I cannot construct real sentences and not start every word with I. Or make sense, for that matter. Because I will to write what comes to mind, and not think about what to write.

My childhood was pretty bad I think, although lots of it I don't remember, which is probably for the best.
And now I hate both my parents. But I can't detach myself from them, because for that I will have to get independent first.

But my self image is so screwed up, and deep down inside... I'm not sure I don't hate myself. And I see and dream of greater things.

I despise so much around me. And everything I like, I love.

I obsess about things. Do I sabotage myself?