Who Am I?

1984/1985

I wrote this at age 15 for a literature class in 9th grade.  I was still trying to discover my unique identity and I constantly wondered if I was acceptable to others.

Who Am I?

Who am I?  I am a book.  A book full of memories, feelings, emotions and beliefs, all my own.  I ache for someone to pen me, but am afraid of what they might find.  many pages are colored and scarred and can never be erased.  And many are bright and beautiful and are framed in gold.  Some are scribbled out by myself and others, and some are blank.  Empty.  But a few are written in bold letters and will never be changed by anyone.  Most of my pages are confusing and complex, only to be understood by me,and sometimes not even I understand my own words.  Yet some are so simple that many are blind to their meaning.  I am a mystery.  I wish I had more control of the pen that creates me.  Maybe then I wouldn't have as many pages scribbled out, or as many scars.

Who am I?  I am very sentimental, though many times I hide it.  Sometimes something nameless makes me feel alive and free, or makes me feel worthless.  Everything has meaning to me.  When I see a butterfly fluttering happily from flower to flower I think of freedom.  When I see a rainbow I think of harmony and how everything fits together in the world.  When I see a rainbow it reminds me of the beauty of the world, and that there is good in everything if you only take the time to look.  I like to lay on my back and stare at the wonder of the clouds, and watch them mold together as the wind carries them across the sky.

Who am I?  I like to lay in my room and listen to the radio for hours.  I seems that every song touches me.  Some make me feel happy and triumphant, and some make me cry.  Some create so much energy that I just have to get up and dance, and some help me to drift off into dreamland.  Sometimes I hear a song that feels so real to me that it seems it was written just for me.  Music helps me escape from the stress and commotion of my life, and I am a whole new person.  It is an important part of me.  Without music, I would not be me.

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