Identity Crisis

I've been in the midst of an identity crisis for the past 6 years. Just take a look at my closet. Always rotating with new designs that are unsatisfactory. I'm wearing new shoes. Boots, really. I've never owned boots before this year. Now I own two.

I read now. Often. I hadn't read since I was 10 years old and just discovered Harry Potter for the first time.

My contact list is always changing. Most of the names, though, only gather dust. 

I have a Star of David around my neck. I used to wear a Saint Christopher, but my church days are over. I miss God. But not in a I wish we spoke more type of way but rather in a I wish I could still believe type of way. But I can't. I'm far beyond that.

I'm 23. In two months I'll be 24. Not too sure what I really have to show for it.

I have two tattoos, but soon I hope to make it three. Then four. And so on. I never planned on it as a kid, but I need reminders of what I once was. That's the only way to truly understand what I am now. And what I am only bound to become. 

I used to want to change the world. To save it. But now I only hope to survive it. At least for long enough to rediscover happiness. To hold love once more in my arms. Though I know both will eventually escape. They always escape me. But the demons in my mind hold me tight every night. And for that reason alone I have come to embrace them. To love them. To need them. That used to be God. But it let me go.

I've had tears on the brink of my eyelids since 19, but they won't drop. They remain there. Afraid to fall. Just like me. But at least they stayed. Unlike everyone else in my contact list. Unlike those on my Instagram feed. Unlike God. I wish I could forget you all, the way that you forgot about me.

But at least I've got these tears. And these demons in my mind. Hold me tight. Please. I just need to be held tonight.