I buckle. I break. I fold, I crease. Sometimes I stay straight. Most times I'm curly. I spin and throw arms out wide to stop myself from falling. But most times I just end up hurting my arms. Bruises. Aches. Pain.

I am silent when I am scared. Nervous when I am talkative. I fight with humor not anger. Sting only when stung. Regret immediately afterward. I miss. I ache. I always wish for things that were different. I hate endings.

I stumble. I tiptoe. I move ungracefully from person to person. Sometimes I learn, most times I don't. Sometimes I am just blank inside, like a well with no bottom, a page with no words.

There are times when I don't know myself at all.

I sing when alone. I cry at old movies. I stare at myself in the mirror and forget who I am. I wish. I hope. I pretend to be cynical. Deep down I'm open like a book, waiting to be read.

I bite my nails. I snap my gum. Sometimes I'm just itching to be understood. Sometimes I'm afraid that no one will....

Hello.

This is me.

Who are you?