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I sit here with this pen, a notebook resting on my lap, waiting for the rights words to come.
Why is it that everything is so clear in my head, but whenever I try to express the things I feel, it becomes so complicated that it almost brings me to tears?
I sigh, and look up.
Where am I?
I don't know this place, and I don't know these people.
They look familiar, maybe from a dream?
The girl sitting next to me says my name-how does she know who I am?
Is that my voice answering back?
But how can that be me if this is me?
I start to cry as pain overwhelms me, I can feel myself breaking apart,
falling into three different pieces:
who I am,
who I want to be,
and who I'm supposed to be.