who am i? what am i? is my identity determined by my actions? so that makes me a girl who'd rather write than live and takes in life about as well as a siv but is that all i am? because that excludes the laughter the offkey singing the mediocre horn playing and my lack of praying
or is the only me who matters the one who is seen through a million other eyeballs? she says i'm a talent, a bottomless pit a good friend, one you'd want a girl obsessed with times new roman font someone who's all the best parts of salty and sweet but tell me, if that's the truth then how come my phone isn't blowing up with calls?
am i little else than the me in the mirror? two little tired chocolate truffles unruly dark hair skin that doesn't know what to be all contained underneath a makeup mask
it's difficult to put a label on a person while also taking time to imagine them complexly to call me just one name ignores the best and the worst the person in love with language also uses it as a weapon to attack the girl with a chip on her shoulder never wants to look back
inside of me is a multitude of ladies pretty preppy ladies singing show girls nifty nerd chicks to choose one and ignore the rest would be a sham so maybe i don't know who i am and maybe that's okay