Whoever I Am
3:17 a.m.
It's 3:17 a.m. and I have no idea who I am. That's absurd, I suppose; I know my identity. I just don't know myself anymore. I used to have this problem when I was a teenager, the one I still have today, where I couldn't sleep until the sun was just coming up and I would spend those restless hours tangled in my sheets just wondering about my life. Who I was, what I stood for, and whether I would find out who I am. And for awhile, I thought I did, but apparently not. I have no idea who I am.
It's one of the strangest feelings I've ever had the misfortune to deal with. Its something that even if you're thinking about it, the full power of it sneaks up on you. Then suddenly your eyes are swelling with pushed back tears and you can't stand to be in the skin that you're wearing. You can't stand this aimlessness in your life and you can't stand this oddity you currently are and are doomed to forever be. So you clench your sheets in fistfuls and try not to scream at yourself. You wish for the world to go away and for someone to hold you, and for yourself to die and for someone to kiss you until you feel alive.
But unfortunately, it's 3:17 a.m. and I have no idea how to stop the crying. I have no idea how to be anything other than weak. I have no arms around me and no lips on mine. Most importantly, I still have no clue on who I am anymore. I analyze each and every mistake I've made and how I came to become this fraudulent person; an interloper between moral beings and a dying soul. I wonder how I could have ever acted the way I did or the way someone acted toward me and why I can't let myself be loved.
It's 3:17 a.m. and I have no idea why I sent Adam home. He was so cute and he came over for drinks. He wanted to stay the night with me but not to have sex, or at least that's what he said. I believed him. And that's what scared me. How could someone ever be so nice to me, whoever I am these days, and be absolutely geniune about it?
It's now 3:18 a.m. and there's no chance in Hell that I'll be sleeping tonight.
It's one of the strangest feelings I've ever had the misfortune to deal with. Its something that even if you're thinking about it, the full power of it sneaks up on you. Then suddenly your eyes are swelling with pushed back tears and you can't stand to be in the skin that you're wearing. You can't stand this aimlessness in your life and you can't stand this oddity you currently are and are doomed to forever be. So you clench your sheets in fistfuls and try not to scream at yourself. You wish for the world to go away and for someone to hold you, and for yourself to die and for someone to kiss you until you feel alive.
But unfortunately, it's 3:17 a.m. and I have no idea how to stop the crying. I have no idea how to be anything other than weak. I have no arms around me and no lips on mine. Most importantly, I still have no clue on who I am anymore. I analyze each and every mistake I've made and how I came to become this fraudulent person; an interloper between moral beings and a dying soul. I wonder how I could have ever acted the way I did or the way someone acted toward me and why I can't let myself be loved.
It's 3:17 a.m. and I have no idea why I sent Adam home. He was so cute and he came over for drinks. He wanted to stay the night with me but not to have sex, or at least that's what he said. I believed him. And that's what scared me. How could someone ever be so nice to me, whoever I am these days, and be absolutely geniune about it?
It's now 3:18 a.m. and there's no chance in Hell that I'll be sleeping tonight.
♠ ♠ ♠
this is dumb.