what makes you, you? what makes me, me? nothing? are we all the same? if we aren’t, why do i and others feel the same way? why do others feel this indescribable feeling as well? no one should feel it. it’s hard to picture someone feeling this too, when you feel so alone, but it’s true. that’s just life. life.what makes life? what indicates someone is living a healthy and happy life? is there a compass? a map? a graph? what tells you who you are? others? yourself? so many questions. who can answer? no one. no one wants anything, yet everyone wants everything. be thankful, of what? if i’m not fully healthy, am i supposed to be thankful for my family and friends? what if i feel like i’m only a burden for them? am i to feel thankful for having an amazing opportunity that others would kill to have? and what if i just can’t? if i can’t feel, what do i do then? am i to be made fun of, be put down and such? what if i can’t help not feeling? what do i do then? am i to simply disappear? that would be nice. Oh, so very nice.
for as long as i can remember i’ve felt a certain way. and i thought it was me just being silly, or immature. turns out, this feeling is a thing that others feel, too. which is a weird thing to think, since i never imagined it would actually be something. there’s even a name for it: having no sense of self.
it’s a weird thing, but it does happen.
i wrote this a few weeks ago, and now it’s an interesting thing to read, at least for me, considering how it starts with
what makes you, you?