I don't know when I lost myself. I don't know how, or when, or where. Was it eighth-grade science class, where I sat alone and prayed for opposites? Half of the time I would pray to be noticed, the other half I'd pray to remain ignored. Or was it the lonely nights I spent tangled in sheets, reminiscing about every insignificant little mistake I'd ever made? Maybe it was the books, or maybe the music that made me disappear. Maybe I got too caught up in the beauty of others' words that I lost any beauty in my own. Maybe it was the nights I snuck out or the days spent in the ocean that did me in.  
I don't know who I was before. She's gone, lost forever, and she's not coming back. The only thing I know for sure anymore is that when I lost the girl I used to be, I found myself.