Betrayal of Self Identity

This is my Bicentinneal post... I mean when you add my two blogs together. It couldn't have come at a better time... since I am at one of the lowest points in my life. I am Michael Cabauatan. I am in college. I am a male of eighteen years of age, and I have resigned to fate. I don't expect anyone to read this, as I don't expect anyone to understand. All I can truly hope is that someone is willing enough to care what I say and spend time trying to understand me. In the end, you can really never understand someone else, but the fact that you tried... That is all that matters to me. Or maybe I don't want you to understand... Maybe I hide myself so that I can say that no one understands me. How antisocial am I? So antisocial, that only God understands me. I could live life alone, all I ask is that I have one other to share my life with... I wish that my future would be insular. I want to help the world, in any way I can, but I want the least amount of people knowing what I do for them. I want to be alone. I want to wallow in my own despair. I don't want others to know, although I secretely wish people would care. I would break down and cry evry night, yet have a faint ray of hope in knowing that I do what I have to do, in the best of my ability. That would be life for me. I want to understand humanity, but I don't expect humanity to understand me. My life is to be spent in the service of others, forsaking myself. After all, what am I but just another human being, who reaches out to other human beings? Who am I to say I am different from everyone else? Self perceptions are oftentimes biased. I want to love, but expect no love in return. I want to give hope to those who have none, and I expect to keep none for myself. Yet, I want not to be recognized. I wish to die with only a handful of people present at my funeral, to be anonymous. All I would ask is that the world spread the love I give. Love is a gift of God. It isn't meant to be kept in a box, locked up used only on one's self. It is meant to be shared. Meant to be given away, with no expectance of reciprocation. The true beauty of it all is that you can give it all away, but you always get something in return. Either reciprocation, or the memory of loving another. You lose nothing when you love, I guess all you lose is your self identity. You become love itself. That is love's perfection.