Some times I want to stand on top of the highest building and share my pain with the world. Some times I get so confused with everything and everyone around me that I forget who I am. And I’m scared of what the future holds, I’m scared that I don’t know what’s going to happen. I literally sit and think myself to the point of my eyes burning but I can’t bring myself to cry because it’s pointless. And I feel so numb, so unfufilled, so empty. And I want to find purpose. I want to be who I was born to be. And then I ask myself who am I? But I’m confused at the question myself because I was pretty sure I knew exactly who I was. Then there’s word like was, that halts me. I should know who I am, I shouldn’t be unsure. But my world is always consumed by other peoples live, and problems, that there is no time for me. No time for me to find myself because I’m so busy finding everyone else. And it’s funny that I know the problem, and possibly the solution but I’m still faced with who am I? I’ve become everyone’s definition of me that it took over and washed away the real me. And I’ve pushed and fought but it was too much because I had too many people viewing me, loudly. Putting their judgments on me, and their perceptions of who I should be, and their morals and their beliefs, and their meanings of Karen Marie. But when can their theirs, be what’s coming from me? And I’m so much grounded, deep within my facade, that even I began to believe what everyone had to say. And because my inner voice had gotten so small, when it started to shout, I started hitting into brick walls because I didn’t know my own voice. I’m a stranger to myself. I’m crying out, trying to find help but the only person that can help me is me. So I sink into the ironic familiar feeling of loneliness, to discover who I am.