MY Own Worst Enemy

In this world it is sometimes hard to understand yourself. There is so much life holds, how could you possibly know what it is you want from life? I envy the people who can be themselves. The ones who are not afraid to act as themselves in any given situation. The people who hold their own standards no matter what social interaction they are having. I often define myself in 2 ways. I see the person inside my own head, and the person that everyone else sees and defines as me. The ability to understand who you are, and be able to feel comfortable without any kind of internal distress. This may be an impossible idealistic thought, but I still find people who overcome this fear and find a way to create a world that they control. A world where they know they did everything possible to live in a way that they can be at peace with. A feeling of self-fulfillment. Those people don't know what it's like to have a second life. But, I do. When I am around other people I often feel as though my actions are controlled by them. I cannot just do whatever seems right, because I am concerned with that view they have of me. Even if it is not a great reputation, it is still better than the possibility they may actually hate me. The very thought that I may be isolated by the people around me keeps me in constant fear. Even at this moment sitting in a room with mostly people I consider to be my friends, I sit in silence, typing about my emotional distress. How wasteful and pretentious. I have the ability to make connections that will last for years, or at least be polite enough to not sit on my laptop complaining about how unfortunate it is that sometimes I feel sad. As if I think other people don't have problems. They probably have worse problems then me. That is the second world I live in. A world where I am forever trapped by the uncontrollable prison that is my mind. I am my worst enemy, I am what combats my own happiness. Imagine, that, imagine a world where everything has worked out for you, but you cannot be happy because you don;t like yourself. Why don't I like me? Who knows? I may never like me. I could at least tolerate me. So many things in the world, and I am trapped in my own self-indulgent civil war. How selfish. Maybe depression is what I deserve, if I can't be happy with myself, how can I be happy with anything else? I certainly don't deserve it.