Can't sleep. It's nearly 12 and I can't sleep. I need to sleep more.

I can't sleep though, I don't want to. There's still so much to do, so much to say. There's still an opportunity in the day to be happy. There's still time to learn to love myself or something productive. But there's not. There's nobody here to help me, to show me the way or to point me in the right direction.

I'm still trapped in this corner of hate and self-loathing because I can't bring myself to do anything about it.

The idea of being pleased with myself is something that scares me. It's a life-long dream, to reach perfection in my own eyes, and to start on achieving that now would mean I wouldn't know what to do for the rest of my days alone. And ultimatlely, failure is no loss, right now I have nothing to lose. Nothing except the idea of a purpose that will take a lifetime.

I don't want to find myself sitting around in 30 years not thinking about myself and ways to improve and ways to be a better person.

Perfection, is what scares me.