Sometimes, I think I know everything about the world. It’s like there is this unbridled power deep within me that’s only restrained by the opinions of others. Isn’t that peculiar? In theory, I’m quite possibly the most talented person I know; but in others eyes is where I feel my true worth is. Isn’t it strange that I’m so original and organic around my true friends vut when I am around others who are linear in thinking I feel the need to match their disposition? I don’t understand myself. Truely, that is my one flaw. I suppose I should indulge in my fantasies: being a singer, actress or model, but every time I attempt I am torn back to reality by someone bringing me down. I lack confidence, of that I am well aware. But it is when I am around the type-a society that i begin to doubt myself. Am I really intelligent? Is there any possible way I’m even remotely funny? It’s these questions that haunt me daily. The only time I can feel free is when I write, act or dance. I don’t have to be myself, whoever that is, when I act. I don’t need to think about my problems when I write. It was until my friend brought up that the people I create and the scenes I play are all just another facet of me. What a strange thought, right? But as my friend assured me it made more and more sense. Who else could create what I do but me? Maybe I’m crazy or boisterous, but I enjoy thinking about these things.