My love

To find people fall so evenly into traps haunts my every waking dream. The things that they want are as selfish as they seem, but why do I keep asking for more? My love would be sweet and sincere, but the depression inside me decides for me that I am not worth it. Am I being selfish in asking for help? I feel so stupid for giving in to what I want and the way that I talk. The truth is the colors just don't blend too well. I want to be loved but all I can see is the wrongness of everything in me. All that I care for is torn to shreds as I find myself thinking what a horrible mess. I find that I keep hoping surely I will end up happy, but I am not cinderella and my life is not sappy. The cold hard truth still does not weaken my hope, and I guess I will find out the hard way if my heart will be ripped out.