self_____

I have found myself in a compromising position, though I'm not sure compromising would be the right term.
As each day passes I find myself being more self-absorbed. All I do is think of myself. Oh the woes of vanity, or in this case, lack there of. My insecurities has piled on me thus. So much so that all my thoughts are attributed to the single notion of self-loathing in the hope that in the future it may lead to self-improvement. There lies a hope in the future, whilst the present is in constant escapist mode. With each passing day I find myself disliking myself even further. From the physical down to the very core. My sleeves has been battered to jarring proportions. I beg to question, will there be any sleeve to write on?

I am at a dilemma. I want to stop thinking of myself. Yet how does the self ever stop thinking of the self? The question itself sets off cringes. But it is, nonetheless, a question asked, a question that will inevitably have to be answered. Oh how I wish I'm not as self-absorbed and selfish as I think I am.