I Don't Know

And the fact remains: I don't know. I don't know why I sometimes can't put into words what feels like a stream of contradicting thoughts flowing through my head. I don't know why some things that shouldn't piss me off, piss me off. I don't know why I can't seem to move around or get anything done; why I've completely and utterly surrendered to the shackles of laziness that appear to bind me for all eternity. I don't know why you did what you did; why you do anything you do, for that matter. I don't know why it seems like one minute you like me, the next you don't. I don't know why it's not only you I get that feeling about, but almost everyone. I don't know how I can possibly have such a low self-esteem and yet think highly of myself at the same time. I don't know why no-one seems to like me, really like me, when I don't really think I'm that bad. I don't know why I can't make the distinction between building fences around me and jumping into other people's lives uninvited. I don't know why I'm too scared to do some things by myself. I don't know why I keep wondering why I have to do those things by myself; why 70% of my time is spent by myself. I don't know why I'm on this earth when I don't even deserve it. I don't know why I don't get up and do all the things I know I could do if I set my mind to it. I don't know why I don't get past all the how's and just go for what I want. I don't know why it's always a how that ends up bringing me down; usually a how-to-get-there, both literally and metaphorically. I don't know why I let them. I don't know why some people aren't nice to me when I make an effort to be nice to them. I don't know why I'm excluded when I thought I was a part of it. I don't know if it's my fault or not. I don't know what you want from me. But most of all, I don't know what I want from myself. Or do I? I don't know that either.