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.
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