SchoenNichts• Show poetry

I've always had such a hard time trying to create a profile for myself. I feel that I cannot adequately express or explain myself. Who I think I am is littered with who I want to be. My short comings aren't always so evident or so easily admitted. Denial is a well practiced skill of mine. I find out who I am by what comes out when I write. I discovered the source of many of my personal turbulences halfway through a hardly ledgible notebook. The tears subsiding as the enlightment projects outward and illuminates the carpet layered with scraps of margain paper that never tears just so. Art reflecting life? Would anything else ripped from it's womb and crumpled in utter disguist, not leave some shred of itself behind? Rightfully so. It's almost an insult. To see it resting there on the floor. Mocking the humanity in me. Somehow it's a crutch as well. I pick up the pieces, clean up my mess, throw away the unnecessary, and move foward much lighter. Metaphorically healed.

I'll tell you who I think I am: I am ever changing. I am effected and infecting. I am Newton's third law. I am Pam. I am 21. I've reached a new and exciting platform of my life. It's trying and equally rewarding. Besides, I sleep better when I've put in a good day's work towards something I desire. Desires are our souls singing. My soul sings loudly, yet harmonously with the vivacious LIFE around me. Music fuels me; finds me; loses me; leads me; tempts me. "I've got love songs runnin' through my veins".

I'm not sure how much more to share. I don't even know how much of this is a lie and only applicable in this very second alone. Am I still these words? I know! I am: Retoricle questions and compromising parts of sadness and bliss.