I've reason to believe that maybe, just maybe, I might've planned my life way too detailed with pin point accuracy of what I wanted, than I would've hoped for. So what happens if, I've lived a life heading only towards that direction, of what I wanted, and at the end of it all, or rather, in the midst of it all, I stop in my tracks and decide that I really don't want any of this. I've lived a life not for myself yet, for others. My possessions are for others, money, comfort. Feelings, love, hatred. I have none for myself. I am like an empty vessel or even like a vending machine. Giving things as people demand them. The first step to a problem, as I've concluded once, is to first admit that you have a problem. And here I am, admitting it. I don't want any of this. Maybe, I've never wanted any of this. I regret choosing to be alone my whole life. I regret molding myself to what I thought people wanted me to be, not how I wanted to be.  I regret trusting people, I'm naive to think that certain people have my back. They don't. I regret choosing this field as a career in hopes my father would finally look at me. I regret making love the only thing that drives me. " In love is how I was born, and in love is how I hope to die. "  What a load of bullshit. To be honest, I really don't know who I am anymore. Not that I did to begin with. But it's too late now, isn't it ? Nothing else really need be said.