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Lately I have begun to think that no one can really know who they are, because no one can know every corner of their mind, and no one can remember who they used to be, and no one can tell who they will be in the future, and no one can see themselves as others see them. So I am a great unknown, a mystery, and my purpose in life is to find myself, even though I know that I will never completely succeed.

So what kind of person am I? I am quiet, but I say a lot in the safe confines of my mind. I am short-tempered and slow to forgive. I do not insult or hurt people, but only because I am afraid of consequences. Many a time has come that I want to hurt, to destroy. I am quick to smile, but I am rarely happy. I enjoy few things, I have few memories. Remembering only gives me pain. I have been told that I am talented in many ways, but I have never believed it. I used to be a perfectionist, but I don't care about much anymore. I want to believe that I am good, and maybe I am from the outside, but I know that truthfully, I am not.

I do not know if anyone can understand what I am writing, because none of you have my memories, and you do not know who I am, what I am. But here, I will try to tell you. It is hard, though, and so I may not get my point across.

Do you know what happens when your entire life is pain? When you have been grasped by its evil jaws and you do not know how to escape it? You fight it for awhile, then you inevitably lose and angrily surrender, all the while dying, piece by agonizing piece.

Have you ever experienced a time when it seems impossible to go on, because of what might and will happen to you? And the only thing you can do is cry and sit still, waiting until someone comes along to help you. But when you need someone the most, that's the time no one is there for you. And you feel like you live on an abandoned island.

Have you ever been so completely abandoned that you cease to talk? I have. I did not speak unless an answer was demanded for so long. And written words were the only things I had. No one tried to speak to me. And I sat alone, and I cried alone, and I spent my weekends alone, and I was my best and only friend. And I learned to dance in the rain when other people ran for cover, and I stopped caring and started hating, all the while crying out, crying out for help.

Have you been called emo nastily, but you love it because it means that someone has finally noticed you? Emo and goth are what I am called. Because I wear black. But

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