No matter what I do to insure that I don't succumb to my own fears and doubts, they always come creeping back every time. Especially when I'm alone, even now when I'm cooped up in my room. Even though I want to break out of my shell and meet people, at the same time though I believe that I don't deserve that privilege in any way, all because of my desperation and social ineptitude. This is a song that most people are probably sick and tired of hearing from me at this point, but it's like a constant feedback loop, no matter how much I try to unburden myself of this negativity.
I know that I am my own worst enemy, I know that there is no one else to blame but me for the mistakes I've made so far. The million dollar question is this though, how do I fight me?! How do I overcome myself without turning into what most people would consider to be essentially an asshole? What fuels my negativity even further, is when I read stories in the newspapers about controlling and abusive partners (regardless of gender, ethnicity, beliefs or even sexual orientation for that matter), who brutally murder or maim their former significant others, all because they've succumbed to their own petty insecurities.
I do try to simply skip over those stories and pretend that they don't exist, that everything is all sunshine and rainbows. Yet for some non-explainable reason, I find it exceedingly difficult to ignore. All the suffering and pain that isn't even my own to begin with, I shoulder it because I feel like no one else can nor will they ever do so. At the same time I know that if I at least try to do something about it, I know for a fact I'll inevitably make things worse, that I will undoubtedly be reviled for what I've done regardless of how "benevolent" my actions maybe in my own eyes.
This is the sort of thing that greatly puts me off from seeking the closeness and companionship, that most socially adept people tend to find with ease. Not just because I'm worried about what other people are like, but I'm still trying to find myself. The answer to the question of "Who am I?" [as a person] still eludes me, especially when people have very different perceptions. A name means nothing after all really, it is our actions that determine who we really are. I know I'm overthinking things at this point, but it still frustrates greatly and yet I don't know why it does so.