An Existentialistic Look At My Life

The age old question rumbled in my head Who am I? I would like to believe that I am a sweet deep thoughtful sensitive beautiful mysterious dark poetic sensual young woman. A dreamer With potential. And goals. And a life ahead of me. But I'm afraid to admit to myself what I've become. A bitter hateful evil lazy fat ugly ignorant white trash emo ghetto hood rat. Do I even mean anything? My life serves no purpose. I'm not making the world better. I want to. I try. One kind act at a time. But it's not enough. I feel like I'm destined for greatness. But how? I want more for my life. But I just feel so held down... Like I'll never escape the hell that my life has become.