If it is true that I think therefore I am, if I quit thinking, am I not?...

Okay, so I am an emotional train wreck just waiting to happen. It seems everyone who loves me ends up as fucked up as me in the end. I don't know what it is about me that takes perfectly ordinary lives, and turns everything into a complete disarray. I have made a mess of my own life. And now apparently I have made a complete mess of the hubby's and The Honey's lives as well. To be honest though, they both need to be able to admit their own fault in all of this. I did none of this alone. I did it all hand in hand with each of them. But it seems that the simple act of loving me, is a sure way to bring about your downfall. By loving me they opened themselves up to the strange and often sad consequences of it all. I am cursed. I am doomed to be unhappy despite any and all efforts to the contrary. All the men I have truly loved in my life turn out to be exactly the same in the end. Less than what I need. All the men in my life that have truly loved me (There are more of them than those that I have loved in return.) end up exactly the same in the end. Miserable with me, miserable without me. I am less than what they need. I am less than what they deserved. I am less than what they thought I was. I am less. What I keep looking for is someone who will pick up all the pieces of me, and make me complete again. I thought I had found it. I thought that maybe, just maybe, I got to be whole. I guess the problem with that kind of thinking is that there seems to be something missing all the time. One piece of the puzzle that can never be found again. I think maybe the dog ate it when it fell to the floor, a long time ago, and so the men who profess to love me just keep looking for it in vain. I have decided to just give up. I have decided that I need to just keep my love hidden, and never share it. When I do, the consequences are too much to bear. The pain becomes too great. It is not worth the risk. I do not set out to hurt anyone, but that seems as though it is the only possible outcome of my love. I destroy. I tear apart hearts, and lives. I leave people bleeding in the streets. I end up there as well. I can't take this kind of pain anymore. I do not have the strength. I am weak. I am helpless. I need to be saved from myself. I do not want to hurt anymore. I do not want to bleed love and pain all mixed up like some sick sweet cocktail for the amusement of others. I want to end it. To release myself from this agony I feel all the time. I want to disappear from the world as though I never existed at all. I am not worth saving. I am not worth loving. And in the end, ultimately, I am not worth anything at all, to anyone. I am hopeless, and helpless, and faithless, and scared, and scarred, and trying so hard, and never getting anywhere, and ready to just say fuck it all, and I do not want to be. I just do not want to BE. If it is true that I think therefore I am, if I quit thinking, am I not? Wow, insanity rears it's ugly head at the most inopportune times doesn't it? That's all, Bye.