delusions

sometimes i feel that i am the only one, that despite my intentions, despite my love, despite how ever hard i try, it's for not. that in vain arrogance i think that it really means something. that it really says something about me. but maybe it doesn't, really it goes to show the idea that i think that my identity is this constructed thing that defines me. but its not. my identity isn't the things i do. it's not that words i say. it's not how others perceive me. my social identity says nothing about "me." the suffering that i feel, is my own weakness. my weakness being thrown right in my face. and most of the time i don't even see that. most of the time i wallow in this self-righteous pity as if i have any right or reason to feel alone or sad. isolated. bullshit. this whole construction that how others perceive me is nonsense. i wonder in my darkest hours what does it matter. why am i here and what does it matter. i am so screwed up in my head. i have abandonment issues. i have self esteem issues. i see myself alone, alone. sadly continuing on this same path of giving all of me, wanting something back, but ending up empty handed. the fucked up thing is that i realize this dynamic and accept it and repeat it and have made it a part of my identity. (laughing to self quietly) it's sad. but hey that's life, at least for me. that's how i have seen things, that is how others see me. and those optimist out there, maybe it's because i think this way that perpetuates and feeds the cycle. yeah, maybe but in the end we can speculate and hope but no one can say with convincing certainty. and while i don't think isolation is this all defining aspect in life, as i think at my future, the things i want to do, alone may be the best thing. unattached, without regard for what you might leave behind, isn't that what we should want from those who will safeguard us? from our soldiers, from our field agents, from those who will risk a life to protect others? i look back on my time in the Marines and it is then that my life had a purpose i was satisfied with. as sad and depressing as this all might read, that is not my intent. life is for each person something different. purpose takes on a life depending on our choices or lack of. mine has been my indecision, my life is defined by the times i didn't make the impulsive choice, but chose to deliberate and contemplate and analyze instead opting for the most "useful" decision. the decision that tended to yield maximum benefits for others. because when i sleep at night that's all that keeps me going. to think that i might be of some use to another. that my during my life i can be of some small, insignificant utility. and all i will ever know is the sad delusions i will tell myself, that this is so. and maybe that is the most i can hope for.