It seems like someone has to place me somewhere. Like I have to be pinned against the ground... To be able to breathe, to think, to learn, to love, to live... It's always as if someone has to do it for me. Someone has to help me. Like someone has to know who I really am.
But in so doing, I let myself be branded by someone who isn't me. I let myself get crushed, be torn apart, and be shattered into pieces. I had myself killed. I let "I" die.
It is true what Ayn Rand once said, "The most despicable of man, is the man without purpose." The man who doesn't know who he was nor what he is. The man who has nowhere to go. The man who had let his self die.
The man who is not me...
It can't be me...
It shouldn't be...
m] E.
