What makes me difficult, or rather near impossible, to love?
I understand mostly that there’s too many pieces missing to the puzzle that completes the complex being that I am.

To start there’s the seemingly immposible to grab self confidence that I’ve lost the past few years. Sometimes I catch hold of it in the sunshine or when my favourite song plays on shuffle. But then it blows with the wind. As fickle and fleeting as strigns of good weather on these stormy summer days.

Then there’s everything that I never will be. All the ways I can’t compare and all the other ways I fall short. All the ways I fall short in love and the lack of ability to bring pleasure. The nightmares that haunt me everynight and the daydreams that plague me when my mind drifts. Dark thoughts are permanent and lighter thoughts are timed family visits. Which probably plays out in the way I carry myself and interact with the world around me. I couldn’t blame the world for showing me I’m impossible to love since I can’t hold a consistent stream of love flowing into myself.