I've spent a lot of time over the last year trying to decide exactly who I am. I'm not sure I've come up with a definite answer yet... But I have an idea of all of the people that I am:
I'm sure that there are a lot of other things that should make it on that list. Eventually they will.
Maybe one day I'll even come up with that definite answer? (I doubt it, though.)
Am I someone who my parents could be proud of? No. But I gave up on that one a long time ago. Am I someone that my partner could love unconditionally? No. But that's not entirely my fault, either. Am I someone who is happy? No. But I'm trying to be. Am I someone important? No.
I think that's the one that hurts the most.
Maybe that's who I want to be?
Not to the whole world or even everyone I know - just to the people who are important to me. That's what brings me down the most, not being important.
It's been nearly ten years since I left everything behind - including my best friends. And I've had an empty spot inside me ever since. It's as though my soul has been fractured into six peices and I'm missing five of them. But my friends? They've all moved on, made new best friends, have husbands, fiances, boyfriends, children, their dream jobs... They're making their Happily Ever Afters - and I don't even get to be part of it.
I'm not saying that I haven't had some wild experiences here, that I haven't ever had moments of happiness - but there's been a lot missing too. When I'm old and gray and I get to see pictures of my friends' grandchildren online and get to read my friends' published novels and hear about their wild adventures I'll still shed a couple of tears: a happy one for them, at the knowledge that they had all they ever dreamed of - and a sad one for me, knowing that my dreams were always just out of reach.
That's who I am. Not who I want to be - but who I think I will be.