My Battle

What am I supposed to do with my feelings? Their killing me. I have gone through much pain thinking about the impossibility of things, on why am I so imperfect to fit? Why am I feeling things that I have not intended to? I never wanted this. But my mind falters against my heart. As if the latter has a mind of its own that my own mind cannot control. It is the heart that is seeing. But it is seeing perhaps what to my mind is the wrong one. My mind has its own set of reasons, the impossibility is what it sees vividly. Their battle is my own endless contention of what I am supposed to do. They confused me so much. But what can I do? I am left unaided with high caliber arms. I am soldier who's fighting in a battle totally unknown, in a battlefield so unfamiliar that the probability of losing is greater than that of winning. I am not sure if I can fight back with enough fervor. That is because I am not certain if it will yield me triumphant. But face with too much uncertainties, I know for a fact that I want to win this battle as much as I want to lose it.