emotional unavailability

Honestly, I don't know what's wrong with me. Sometimes, I don't know if I'm genuinely feeling love towards a certain person or if it's just a very temporary emotional state I tend to get in because of a song that affects me, or if sometimes it's the outcome of some other emotion. For instance, it may be possible that I'm actually missing home but then I go onto pouring all those emotions into a superficial state I create, which I then call "missing my ex". I forcedly cry a little bit, look at a few pictures, rethink all of the stuff that we went through, then go ahead and write a few paragraphs. Then, every once in a while, the same procedure repeats itself with slight differences.

I don't rely on my "emotions" because one minute I think that I'm missing someone, the other minute I can flirt with another person, and then maybe sleep with a completely different person -- provided they are attractive enough. Or maybe I genuinely love and miss the first person, but just distract myself with the latter. Because each new love that comes my way, I feel like it's always incomplete in some way. Had I shared a complete and fulfilling, loving relationship, I probably wouldn't even be writing this.

Essentially, I think that I use a lot of what I've learned growing up from tales, movies or musicals and don't really know how to explore my very own, one of a kind emotions. I guess this makes me "emotionally unavailable" and I am ignorant, in that I'm not able to see through myself and grasp my emotions. I truly wish for myself that as I keep maturing, I will be able to unlock all of these emotions.

It's kind of sad how a person can be so distant and in a way, unattached to their own self.

What's worse is I drag along people with me. I just hope that if someone has to get hurt, it will be me. I couldn't live with myself if I ended up hurting someone else.

I don't know who to blame for this issue that I seem to have, but then again, I might be making this all up. Maybe I'm overthinking and dramatizing; maybe this is a "normal" thing to go through, maybe it's something that I will come to understand with age, maybe it's the consequence of expecting something much more intense, something much different (again because of all the tales and everything) — and this gets in the way of my happiness in a way, and causes me to suspect my feelings.

Writing this, and having written so much, has probably helped me with this issue and I didn't even realize it up until now. I guess this means that I will keep on writing.