Internal Circle of the Unknown

Today a part of me has died. Because of me. All because of me. I can’t keep doing this or I will dissolve into nothingness. I’m evaporating right before my own eyes as smoke from a bonfire raises up into the sky, swimming, swimming through the air until drowning into the darkness.  I have become this smoke.  I’ve become the very thing I hate most.  And nobody knows what this is.  People try to understand, but I am a muddy pond, a solid object.  I am unclear.  Where does the goofy side of me come into play? Because this side is slowing becoming the majority of my population.  It’s taking over until the insides of me are slowly turned inside-out.  I have divided, as a whole, as an individual, as a human.  Where is the good side of me that I so know, exists?  Why can’t he come out?  He’s stuck inside in the hellish pits of my being, trapped.  Waiting for me to save him…if there even is any chance at all.  I take things for granted and then appreciate the troubled aspects.  It seems as though I have no schedule, no system, no process of conducting myself.  But then I get sad because I come to the realization of things that will make me sad in the future, which remind me of the things that make me sad now.  What is wrong with me? I tear myself apart, kill myself inside, but then smile for people.  It seems I am a hindrance to myself, others, and time.  I’d give anything and everything up to see the people I love, happy.  But i don’t know how.  I want so bad to be a part of their story, but all I am creating is another horror novel for them.  I am the villain, the monster.  I seem to suck the life out my contacts.  I feel this gift of words is the only way I can fully express anything in its entirety…and the only gift, while being a curse at the same time.  Something you don’t know is that my words make me sad.  They are like razor blades, each cutting deeper as I bleed out.  I try frantically to fix these small wounds but the big ones hurt me to the point of fatality…and yet I continue to fight, only delaying my imminent outcome. They are like too many cords plugged into a power source and when they all come into play, the whole system abruptly and violently shuts down.  What kills me inside is the way my heart operates.  It is in the right place yet deteriorates its host.  Who am I?