Shall I reintroduce myself?

As the most incomplete person I've ever been.
Here I am again as always, struggling to find myself in places I couldn't see my own hands in. I'm 19 years old, still at Suffolk County Community College in all of its grandiose, working on tips at a family friendly Johnny Rockets, and crying myself to sleep every night.
Some things will never change.
I've aquired a new taste for self-pity. And when I say that I mean a new taste for letting myself get beaten down. I've finally become aware of the fact that I can't hide myself behind a wall of excuses. I need to grow up and face my own faults, not just in a journal, but in the face of the world. The extremely cold and cruel world. I've gotten a taste of my own disgusting medicine two days ago and I can't help but feel transformed. As if now I'm a regular person, like everyone else, with their heart severely broken. With a realization that not everyone is going to want you, and perhaps you're not as desirable as you thought you were. It sounds a bit selfish to say, but from how I feel now, that is exactly how I must have felt before. Years of me blaming the opposite person for all of my unhappiness, for all of our failure, now I'm seeing that perhaps it's just me who's been creating the platform on which all disaster collides.
I'm the builder of my own wrecking ball.
I couldn't tell one how I plan on changing the direction of this fog so that perhaps I could see the path laid out before me. Right now I'm taking numbers, suggestions, and complaints. I want to make those I care about happy to be with me. I don't want to be the person you're obligated to pick up. The person who everyone smiles at, but is glad to get rid of. I don't want to be that. I want so much more from myself. I want so much out of life that it destroys my heart everytime I get a glimpse of it growing further and further away.