A Cluster of Stories

Clay

Why? I-I don't get it. They say be yourself. What if I have no idea who "myself" is.

Is it a person that actually exists? Do I need to find them on my "miraculous" journey through life? How do I know who I'm looking for? Hell if I know.

I feel like clay.

I'm with my family, polite, mannered, goody two shoes.

Pass.

I'm with my friends now, one day I'm their innocent character in the group. The next I'm supposed to be an airhead who beats up anyone who gets in my way.

Pass.

I'm awkward, shy, weird, quiet. I rarely talk.

Pass.

I'm angry, I'm pissed, I will suplex whoever irritates me.

Pass.

I'm sobbing, hating myself, feeling self loathing. I want to die. I'd rather drive a bullet through my head than be this way.

Why? I feel like clay. I feel molded by my surroundings. Who am I supposed to be? I can't even describe my personality for fuck's sake.

I'm tired. I don't want to feel like clay anymore. Maybe I won't have to.

I am clay.