I woke up realizing I have no idea who I am. Where I’m going. What I’m doing. What I want. What I’m fighting for. What I’m not fighting for. I slip on these heels that are branded with my size on the sole, but they just don’t fit… me. The skirt hugs my thighs perfectly but.. it itches. Like my body is rejecting this so called image I prance around in all day. I don’t want to be seen as ungrateful, just look at me as confused. Everything I do and choose is another route to the end of me. And at the end of it all, I step outside of myself to see that I’m alone, even in a room full of people. And like last year, it seems like dejavu all over again. Like I’m holding onto things that don’t want me. This shirt, these shoes, this body, this routine, this life, these choices. All. Of. It. How long until I realize I should have went the other way. I was doing fine, or I was just too busy and distracted that I actually thought I was fine. But instead, I’m a mess on fast forward and I can’t find the stop button Two days before my birthday the truth decides to greet me. What am I getting closer to? What’s coming closer to me? Besides the twin numbers and a birthday cake, I really can’t see it. I just want to see it.