Who am I?

Where are you going?  What are you doing?
These are the questions that swirl and twirl around me, spinning through this chaos that we call life.
But I can’t answer.  Why?
How can I tell anyone my path for my life if I don’t even know who I am anymore?
Really, who am I?

I am writer.
Scribbling down these black lines on this white paper; trying to make some meaning with these words.
I want to inspire, nay; I want to be inspired.
I want to create life in the darkness that is the human mind; I want to think.

I am music.
These chords I play on the these ivory keys, only to fill the silence.
These lyrics that leave my tongue and cheek breathless and white.  Melodious to the ear.
It is all only noise.  No one should want to hear.

I am beast.
I tear myself apart.  My soul is so stained by the past that I don’t even acknowledge that my slate has been wiped clean.
I live by my feelings, and they tell me that I only cause pain and destruction; that if I change someone’s life, it is only for the worse.
I can’t see the light up ahead, but if I would only open my eyes.

I am dirt.
A dusty form, pulled up out of the ground.  Molding clay of the earth.
I am mad in the His image; in the image of my God.  How can I deserve that?
I am His child, His daughter, His princess and He loves me so very much.  He cherishes the moments I break away from my depression to bask in His presence.
I am His beloved and He is mine.  He is everything; I am nothing, yet He will use me to fulfill His perfect plan.

I may not know where I’m going, but this is who I am.

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