Settling is oddly funny in every definition and use of the word.

All of my faces are starting to catch up to me.

Can/Will I ever put them together?

Who can I trust with each self?
(What was I thinking letting any of them out?)

Why do I have so many selves? 

Secrets still don't make friends.

Who needs the wounded love.  This one should work out just fine.

shit has just gotten real, son.    

my heart has shattered into millions of trillions of little pieces and I brought it all upon myself.  Never did I want to be heartbroken twice over by the hopeless and the hopeful. That has always been my job.  Now what?

If you wanted to know what made me happy, look on the book shelf, look in the dresser drawers, look behind the headboard, look on the floor, look in my blood. Any substance I'm under makes me calm ("happy"), not people, call it a curse, I call it life.

“A true soul mate is probably the most important person you’ll ever meet because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soul mate forever? Nah. Too painful. Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then leave. A soul mate’s purpose is to shake you up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light can get in, and make you so desperate and out of control that you have to transform your life.” -Elizabeth Gilbert

I wonder if I can live with that response to that definition.
It hurts hurts hurts the end of this earth. 

And in any instant anyone can end.
I had thought the pain I bore was enough for the world.
Not even close. 
People lose people, but it's so much more than that. 
When the air stops, the words stop, and all grasps on life begin to let go.
Helpless is ... almost worthless.