Defect

Why? Why must I persist in thinking that people can read my mind, and automatically understand what I want or need? Why is it that I cannot pound the fact that it cannot happen into my head? I don't know why, but the strangest things piss me off. I've been known to scream in frustration when my toe hits the wall, almost as if screaming will make the wall apologize. Yet it won't happen. Like many other things are impossible.

I read somewhere once, that when you do not know what is impossible, you are able to achieve more. Before the Wright Brothers, flying was impossible. They achieved a way in which to fly. Does that mean, if I believe something is possible, I might be able to achieve it as well? Though the odds be against me?

I don't know. Maybe it's better not to know. Not to post limits on impossibility.

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Sometimes. I feel like..... a nucleus in an atom. And everyone else is an electron, but in order to become a noble gas, electrons leave me. (using chemistry in writing, Mr. Mercer, aren't you proud of me? :D) So, these electrons may be whirling around me, and I may be attracting them, but I'm still so far away. In order to go to something else, and though it may be for my own good, people leave me. I've mentioned before. My biggest fear is being left behind, abandoned... This distance seems akin to that. And it scares me. I remember writing a poem last year. Being depressive.
It was about floating away on a hot air balloon that got loose, and this frayed rope....reaching to the ground, hoping someone would hold it and keep me from flying away. But, no one looked up. No one held it. They just watched me float away. I thought of that frayed rope as my way of reaching out. Frayed because I've tried so many times, yet it doesn't seem to have worked.
I wonder if it's true?

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Last night, I heard something about myself that shocked me.

I've changed. I've grown up. Too fast. Lost that "innocence". Become....someone that can be placed in stereotypes. Apparently, before this summer, I used to be a happy, bubbly, yet depressive sometimes, flowy clothes wearing, emoting Indianness, type of person. I wasn't preppy. I wasn't nerdy. I wasn't punk. I wasn't anything. I was me.
Now I wonder, am I still me? Has growing up changed me so much, that I've lost myself somewhere along the way? Is there a me? Or does me change as time passes. Does me evolve?
Do I want to go back to that me? So many questions. Who will answer?