I am a flurry of contradictions.
I can be incredibly daring and reckless and brave, but I get nervous and intimidated.. I am logical and pragmatic, but I’m a hopeless, hopeless romantic. I am shy and nervous, yet I am the first to raise my hand when I know the answer. I am thought of as a snobby “goody-two-shoes” type, but really, I’m worse than anyone. I can’t wait to wipe this small town off my hands and travel the world, but I get homesick. I want to be an architect, but I hate the idea of working in a cubicle. I love big open spaces where I feel free, but my favorite locations are in the woods. Does this mean that I am living lies? Honestly, I just don’t know what I am, what I have been, or what I want to be. I'm a little bird that flits among the other flocks, yearning for freedom and liberation, but desperate for a place to belong. Sometimes I escape into my books, or my music. I tell myself I want to let it go, but what I really want is to find out what I am meant to be. But I don’t believe in destiny.