I have lost myself for a while, and I don’t know how to get back to me… or where I am… or even if I’m there; somewhere. I try to keep afloat but all that I have achieved, and all that I have obtained, is not enough to keep me from drowning. I set goals for myself and now that I have accomplished them -within the time-frame I set for myself, even- it’s like not even that is enough. There’s so much more left to do. There’s so much more left to be. And I wonder if this is how it’s always going to feel, no matter what I do or take or obtain or accomplish or receive… is life always going to feel this empty? Is this how love feels? Does satisfaction even exist, or do we merely settle for what we have and what we are and who we have? I look at pictures and I wonder if I was truly as happy; as in love as I appear. I read my old writings and I wonder if I was really truly suffering or was I simply inventing the feeling in order to have something to write about. Because honestly, sometimes I don’t feel anything. Nothing at all. Is this life, as it is, and will it exist as it is forever and ever? If so, why do I even bother in accomplishing stuff if I will always feel this empty? It’s like not even I am a good companion for myself. My mind tricks me and I need to find a way to get out of it… somehow… for as much time as I can do so.