Who are you?

The more things a person can categorize their self as, the more secure their place in the world.

What if a person becomes comfortable with having no place in the world?

Identities have become a thing of the past for me. I just am. At least, for now.

There are traces of who once was: The girl who could be best friends with anyone, even if only for a few hours. She could find commonalities and compromises in any situation. The teen girl who had a healthy disdain for humanity with all their absurdities, and even so, she’d rather take the abuse than see someone else take it. The boy who felt like an outsider. He was the quiet, even headed, cool guy wearing the leather jacket and lighting up a smoke.

All of these, I have been at some point. And now, there’s just a melting pot of characteristics within. I am no one thing or person. There are potentialities and what is right now.

I cannot tell if I am lost or if I am found.

Am I no one? Do I simply feel I cannot be someone? Have I withdrawn from the world so much that I cease to be?


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