I hate myself almost as much as I love myself, so there's always a rift. I know it sounds crazy, but who I really hate isn't me, it is my mind, who I've come to see as another version of myself, a version of myself that has become a master at breaking my heart over and over again.
He breaks my heart ever so insidiously, and sometimes ingenuously. With simple thoughts that leave me broken, with hopes that are raised as high as the skies, and are left to fall down like rain drops, and with every dream that grows as big as an ocean, dreams that are impossible to achieve.
He breaks my heart when he makes me think of things that I will never accomplish, he breaks it with thoughts of places that I will never go to, no matter how much I want to be there, and he breaks it with the remembrance of people I will never be able to love.
I am sad and frustrated, because he, my mind, holds me back from doing what I think might bring me happiness. His hold on me is so strong, and since he is the same as me, I realize that I have mastered the art of breaking my own heart.
Lucent Britex.