The wrong sort.

I don't know what needs to be overcome. I don't know what has to be done. All I know is that I suffer from holes in the web of my existence so inconceivable that all my life has slipped through. My ego, my measly heart is so much more important than other people, isn't it? More important than their friendships, than what they have done and taken for me. It's always been all or nothing. I've always operated in extremes and that created a false sense of idealism than even I can't live up to and no one should have to. No one should have to live according to my ideals. The balance needs to be found. Or else I stand here, ready to lose everything I love, simply because it won't mould itself into what I want. Where the hell do they create people like me and for what end game? I'm obsolete. And in pain that I can't recall ever having been inflicted before. I'm in the business of survival, but self-preservation is becoming very very costly.