i am not just a pretty face and i am not just my sadness. i am a question that has no answer. i am a more than a collection of mistakes. i am a collection of words and photographs and more than a few good stories. i am laughter and sarcasm and tears. a rebel with a forgotten cause. i am compassion. i am at once caring too much and too little. the world has never been enough for me. i am forever picking up the pieces, forever apologizing even when i’m right. i am a collision of mind and circumstance. a million bad memories set on repeat. i am one long, sad requiem. i am the soundtrack to my days. i am dismal, haunting images of regret. i strive to be part of the beauty around me. i am a writer. i am a free mind with a shackled soul. i am no one’s enemy and no one’s friend. i am alone and always have been. i am jealousy and fear. i am disappointment to myself and to those who knew me then. i am a wrong turn and a snap decision. i am selfish and guilty and i don’t know why. i am unconvinced of everything. i am doubtful, disheveled, and disproportionately hopeful. i am a creator of life and a healer of ills. i cry every day for what i’ve lost. i am forever searching and i’ll never find it. i take comfort in the thought of the universe. i am but a fleeting phantasm in this brief reality