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Its not that I'm depressed, like I thought I was. Its just that I'm a dreamer. Whether I was born this way, or brought up this way, I don't really care. I just am. By the age of 7 I strolled the playground alone pondering the true meaning of existence. I looked at trees and mud and saw the beauty of the colors and the textures and the smells. Instead of socializing, I imagined social circumstances where I am this confident, strong, brave girl who knows exactly what to say. I learnt to write to describe this girl, to let her loose into the world, to share with the world what she thinks and sees and feels. I can say it kept me sane. It kept me going. This brave girl knew how to get through heartbreaks, confusion, and issues of self-worth. It kept me from becoming the worst I could be. Even today.

And no one appreciates her more than I do. Maybe that's why I'm protective of her. I'm defensive when people see her flaws, especially her greatest flaw - that she's hidden. Outside, I'm fake, patronizing, I morph into anything you want me to be. And if I like who I am with you, I make friends with you. Simple as that.

But she has no foresight. I can't see myself ten years from now, or five years from now, or even next month or tomorrow. Some days I wake up hating myself, some days I feel brilliant and spectacular. But that's how I do it, I survive day by day. And I hope that every day, I'm still living a life.

Yet, while I say that I'm a dreamer, I don't "dream" anymore. Obviously. I don't dare to imagine myself on a stage in new york singing "On My Own", like I did in that choir room watching lea salonga. I don't dare read The Lovely Bones and imagining my name on a book like that. Everything I write is stale and bland and grotesque. Filled with metaphors, poet's licenses, and sexual innuendos. Its not the first time someone's told me to fight for something, to stop making concessions. I still make them today. Doing this degree is a concession in itself. I hold myself back because I don't dare to fight for something. I don't know how, I've never fought and won a war.

I can't believe I'm bringing this up again. That after all this time, I'm still the branch that bends to the wind. I give in to everyone. Even you. And sometimes, after a fight, I hate myself for it.

How will I fight for my right to get a certain job in the future? How will I fight for my right to raise my children my way? How sure am I that my choices are right? Would I be able to live with those consequences, not having someone else to blame?

I've only ever fought for one thing. And that's you.

And that's already bewildering me.

I need to figure this shit out. Starting from here.