"She's in love, and the world gets blurry
She makes mistakes, and she's in no hurry to grow up
'Cause grownups, they don't understand her
Well it's a big, big world out there, but she's not scared...
She finds hope in the strangest places
She reads her books, and she knows the faces
Of everyone that ever said she's alone
She knows every word to the saddest songs
And she sings along, though her friends all tell her
That she can't sing...
She's eighteen, much too young
To know what a kiss like that would mean
But her lips, they were no stranger to the touch
And she likes it way too much."
--Mayday Parade, So Far Away

Saturday, June 28, 2008

Drive Myself to Madness

They say the only person who will ever truly understand me is me. I'm the only one who has seen everything I've seen, done everything I've done, tried everything I've tried. Nobody else will ever fully comprehend my thoughts, my actions, and the interaction between the two.

The scary part is that I don't know myself at all.

I do things that I never thought I would--or could--do, and then I either regret it or sit in amazement, or both. My thoughts run wild on subjects that I never deemed possible to ponder and I feel sick, sick to the core when I realize that I actually have considered some of the things I've considered.

This is how everyone feels at some point in their life, they say. Everybody goes through this. We all feel lost and confused and detached from our own selves.

Well, I don't believe that. Not for one second. I'm sure I'm not the only one to feel this way, but there are people out there who are ignorant enough to never question who they are or where they stand. Never once will they doubt their identity, their inheritance, their capabilities, or their future.

I, however, am currently questioning them all. Everything about me--right down to what I'll eat for breakfast in the morning--is up for debate, because I cannot make up my mind. Abby Morgan, mastermind decision-maker and director of her life path, is completely and totally incapable of making any kind of choice right now.

It's pathetic, and really, really irritating. I want to just exist. I want to be who I am, because in all honesty, that's the only thing I'm good at.

No, I lied. The one thing I'm good at is faking it. And I must say, I do a damn good job at pretending like I know who I am. So good, in fact, that I've actually begun to believe myself.

Which scares me even more than feeling lost.

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