Tragic Hero

It seems my thoughts have brought me back to this place once again. A place where their slow release is the only alternative to an unpredictable eruption. Today I'm filled with the fear a child has when he is lost from his mother. His whole identity is still tied to their bond, which he is unable to restore. He must be found. The fear builds with every second apart, until all that is left is a frantic, instinctual panic.

Unfortunately, my problem is increased. I do not know what I'm lost from. Perhaps some would say that I've strayed too far from my Christian beliefs that I was raised with, and still prevail my subconscious. Or, perhaps I am just destined to follow the fate of the tragic hero, though I'm not sure I deserve such an epithet. No, my tragedy prevents me from rising to a heroic level, high enough to fall to a complete destruction, which is another tragedy all together, because in this way I can rise and fall as much as time allows me.

A frustration builds inside of me, because I seem incapable of normal interaction. I've gotten better at masking myself, but it seems inevitable that people eventually see what I am, though I'm not even sure if I know what that is. My masking is only a simple hand trick, perfected, and made more elaborate over time, but if you see a trick enough times you will eventually see through it.

So, you ask who I am? I am a selfish, conceitedly charming man with little regards for himself. I value others far above myself, and yet still believe my self to be better than nearly everyone I see. I am incapable of understanding love on an individual basis, but have mastered it in a universal sense. I long for peace and serenity, but feed on chaos. I love only for my own fulfillment. I've adapted to live in short term pleasures and emotions in an effort to feel something beside the pain brought on by my inadequate ability to love, and therefore be loved.

Confusion is all that fills my head. Life is really so simple, but everyone seems to believe it to be so complicated. I feel as though I am trying to explain sight to a man blind from birth. Or perhaps I am that man.

My experience is that as soon as people are old enough to know better, they don't know anything at all.
-Oscar Wilde