the remnants of my soul

I have never existed comfortably, always picked apart myself, tearing at the seams like a nightmarish dream. I tried to peaceful and learn everything. To take bits of handwriting or mannerisms from lovers and friends. but I found in learning all the tangles and threads of everyone I had ever gazed upon, I now know not what I am or whom I do. never knowing who I was without a pair of watching eyes. maybe I existed in the little bits of everyone's lies? maybe I do not exist at all. maybe there's a beauty in the forgotten remnants of my soul. maybe there's peace, in this ever looming black hole. maybe there's hope in this war of fate, before I choose it all far too late.