I don’t think I have an identity

Does anyone else feel like this? 

I’ve always been someone who had a very stable identity. I mean, I think I know who I am. My name is Victor, I like classical books and the Victorian era and the occult and politics and drawing. But I just don’t feel like anything or anyone. Once again I am reduced to the animal, unthinking, unidentified; I don’t think I feel very much other than guilt, perturbation and an emptiness that follows me like the plague. I think that the daemons of my past do not want to let me go. I feel like, due to not having any stable hyperfixations, my mind has had nothing to latch onto other than the feelings of anxiety and guilt from August until now, and it has became me. I feel empty, as if my body and brain is just a shell and inside what was once a whole galaxy is reduced to an empty void with lone stars burning brightly to try and cover the darkness from prying eyes. I’ve accepted what I did. I completely do. But I simply cannot find joy for myself. I don’t even think I’m all that sad, I don’t feel sadness over my actions very often; there is just a level of distress within my life currently that I cannot shake off. I think I’ll just manifest a crazy severe hyperfixation so I can forget this all and recover properly. I believe that breaks from the memories and fear, along with exposure therapy, is the cure of stress. It’s happened to me twice now so it’s a full proof method I’ve made for myself. If I am stagnant in the wreckage of what I have done and go lower into the darkness of who I believe myself to be, then I will do no good that shall be proof that I have actually gotten better and not became the same terrible bully everyone expects people to be. Guilt is expected and normal, but my mind has taken it too far and now I am no-one holding onto nothing at all. I’m a hollow shell of who I once was; I cannot let my light be dimmed by guilt, my past traumas, everything I have to deal with. It is bad to myself, along with bad to everyone, if I do not grow again. I am a beautiful thing, and my name is Victor for a reason. I can never die, especially not by guilt that I deserve. My mental disorders shall not extinguish me. My guilt, my ambition and my good soul shall set aflame the wood of my potential. Even if I am nothing now, I will be flavoured with the deepest character in a few month’s time. I am the pheonix.