Every time I build my self up, it goes to hell.
I build my self up just to be shattered again.
It has become natural to just be strong; to bite my lip and stare into space.
I can identify my emotions but I have become so accustomed to hiding them that it is hard to express them.
Not hard as in I do not know how to express them,
but hard as in it is difficult to show any sign of weakness or vulnerability when that is exactly what I trained myself not to do.  
It is as if I am a rag doll.
I feel limp.
I know exactly what I am feeling but I am limp because in order to not show weakness, I had to let myself feel limp to prevent showing any emotion, therefore  not allowing vulnerability and weakness to be revealed.
So I guess I am a rag doll.
And once you become a rag doll, it is incredibly hard to go back.

I'm not sure who I am yet,
I'm sure where I'm going,
I don't know if I'll ever be,
Really truly me,
We spend our time inventing ourselves,
And i guess I'm just spare parts,
The way my mind thinks,
Music is my art,
A titles half the story,
A picture worth a thousand words,
I've spent my life regretting,
And feeling no self worth,
I've gotten sick and tired,
Of being sick and tired,
I've felt the way we all we feel,
At 3am alone.
I've started to stay on the internet,
Into wee hours of the morning,
Gathering scattered information.
I see my week,
A flashing blurr of distorted colors,
Emotions whirling everywhere,
Trailing one another,
I'm not sure where I'm going,
Or if you'll follow me,
I'm not sure of my roots,
If I was planted like a tree,
I haven't spent much time,
Inventing myself,
Not as much as wishing I was someone else,
But it is time to own up to,
The real and true me,
And maybe then I'll understand....

Who I'm supposed to be

Maybe someday the hard I try
and the tears I cry
will be for someone else…
Maybe someday
the miles I walk
and the journeys I make
will be for someone else
Maybe someday
the dawns I watch
the splendid view of the ocean
the clear nights filled with stars
will be with someone else
can’t be sure,
even the kisses
the wounds and scars
inflicted by someone else…
Maybe someday I'll be
enduring cold nights,
making up after fights
and enjoying felicitous dances
in twinkling disco lights
with someone else...
Maybe someday
the one I call my Mrs.
will be someone else.
You never know,
they say life's what happens
contrary to our plans
but until life happens,
you are my everything…