hiding in plain sight
December 12, 2004 � 3:28 a.m.


I am not who people think I am.
I am not who I think I am.
I don�t think I ever was the person I�ve thought myself to be.
So who am I?

I ponder these things a lot lately, as I sit staring at this blank screen and wrack my brain for things to write about. It has become so hard to write anything here. Every night I sit down and try to find a way to start, but I can�t. I just end up going to LJ and tossing a stupid entry in there and make myself satisfied with that. Because I am lost. Because I don�t know who I am. Because this is the only safe and honest place I have and I don�t want to face honesty right now.

Thing is, I am on pins and needles�on the edge�blurred. Anything that describes agitated disorientation is what I am. It�s not even the usual things�the job, the Queen, the sporadic and chaotic love life�no�though these have been issues lately, they are not what�s gotten me in such a tizzy.

It�s the end of another year.
It�s the approaching of my thirtieth birthday.
In a year and two months I will be thirty.
Fuck�where has the time gone?
Where has my life gone?

They�re not even depressing�the thoughts clamoring in my brain�they�re more�enigmatic than depressing. When I was 15, I thought I would be a mom struggling with 2 jobs, writing mediocre poetry that only I love and understand, and juggling an asshole boyfriend at this age. And that�s what gives me pause. That was my vision of my life. At 15, even my dream life was in fucking disarray. The only real accomplishment that I figured I would achieve is getting my degree. And that�s for shit, now. I only care about that when it rains, and even then, only when it�s kamikazi rain. I didn�t finish college. According to records, I never started. I have to pay the bill for a dream that never was.

I think of all the possibilities and mistakes and all I feel is�muted. Like someone turned my sound down and lost the remote and all I spend my time doing is looking for the remote instead of just screaming until I�m heard. I think that�s all I need to do. Scream�and live. Stop looking for love, stop regretting the past, stop wallowing in despair�I just want to stop, scream, and live.

Even after saying that, you know what my dream life is to have when thirty rolls in? I just want to have a job, a nice place to live, some cash in the bank, and the ability to still daydream with the best of them. Not exactly screaming, but surviving�and hopefully somewhere in there I�ll be living.

So why is it so hard to find the words to write here every night? Because that little bit I just wrote now has my mind swimming with the thousands of things I can�t bear to formulate into complete thoughts. This isn�t the whole truth because I don�t know the whole truth. This isn�t sadness or anger or resentment�it�s just my life�muted�while I sit still in the silence and try to find who I really am

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