What's wrong with me?

I can’t quite figure out what’s wrong with me, maybe it’s the fact that my eyes can’t see or that my heart can’t feel. Or maybe it’s that my instincts have drowned or my mind can’t seem to make a sound. All these emotions that inhabit me steal the logic I’ve taken years to build, I wish I could say that it was funny or ironic whenever this happens but whenever this happens it’s catastrophic. It’s a different person each week, each month, each year; they all are delivered with different names and faces but share the same lies and excuses. They tell me I should have known, they tell me I’ve been through this before, they tell me I should have been smarter, wiser, and stronger. But each and every time the person pulls out a gun to my head or a knife to my throat, whenever they pour me with words that hurt, I look to them with sincere eyes and think to myself: I can’t quite figure out what’s wrong with me, maybe it’s the fact that my eyes can’t see or my heart can’t feel. Or maybe it’s that my instincts have drowned or my mind can’t seem to make a sound..