What are you looking at?

My head sometimes flips and
Every compliment seems evil,
I pretend I am used to receiving none;
I convince myself these things blurring my vision
Are anything but tears,
I think I am the best at something I've never done.
I pretend I love people I have no clue they exist,
I tell myself I came to change the world,
I talk of nightmares in the same breath as dreams.

Cloud of dust sometimes settles and
I realise I love simple things,
My hand clasping hers, my finger feeling
The warmth I derive(d) from touching her nose,
Being blessed with no fear of tomorrow's unknown
With the assurance that she's mine to keep;
I realise I am possessive and mine is mine,
I am a perfectionist I never thought I was,
I fear failure and now
I am heartbroken.

Everything seems structured now,
Drawing boards are behind closed doors
Strategies are flowing in but they aren't gonna work,
An oak tree being cut down using a razor,
Or a mosquito being hunted using a bazooka;
Trying too hard to very little effect
In the end it is a steady progress of
Digging my own grave.

I said, what are you looking at?