enough about me,

me
me
me
are you tired of reading about me yet?
I think the most confusing part about life right now is that I don't know what I'm confused about. I just know there is something fuzzy going on in my brain and I constantly feel frazzled.
I write about me so much because I can't seem to find myself in other people's words anymore.
nothing clicks or pangs or makes me go cold in the good way.
I haven't cried while watching a movie in a long time.
I don't finish the books I start.
I no longer settle
They say, you have to love yourself before you can love someone else.
and maybe they are right.
But what if you love yourself too much to let anyone else.
because no one knows you better than yourself
so really can anyone love you better than you can love yourself
probably not.
so what's the point