sam i am

well. i decided there are eighty million things you can be. and those things vary and change according to the second.

and it makes me wonder about what i am. everyone wants to be so unique. i want to be able to say that i am not a can of soup, you can't label me, file me away, classify me, or put me in a neatly bow-tied box. but you know what, maybe we can. and we try so hard to make ourselves so very very different, so verry veryy special. but we really are all the same. maybe we create our differences, we make ourselves the city upon the hill.

sometimes i want to know what i am. who i am. but isn't that what living is all about? isn't living about growing about breathing and finding out who you are, and in fact, who you aren't? but its like i want to know fact-wise what i am and who i am. but part of me doesnt even want to have to define myself. i don't want to limit myself. what a conundrum. paradox, thy name is jessica?

im just going to name words that could be me:
smoker/vegetarian meat lover?/girl/woman/student/high school graduate/goes to therapy/bicurious?/sexually active/unemployed/ambitious/passionate/driven/bitchy/angry driver/angry period./friend/sister/ daughter/ex girlfriend/girlfriend/drinker/beachgoing /driving/therapy seeking/atheist/liberal/political/intellectual/reading/crying/ranting / teasing/ friend/ lover/hater/ dreamer/ realist/ pessimist/ dying.

hah.

really, tragedy, thy name is jessica. :]

and at the end of every day. look in the mirror. you don't know who you are. and if you think you do. look again, there are secrets hidden behind your eyes.

"when i speak to my friends, i don't have a face." - me.