I feel most alone amongst a crowd.

At home I feel like I don’t belong.

The search continues. To find my true-self.

I enjoy solitude, yet I’m afraid of being alone.

I laugh because It’s easier, easier to brush off the comments.

Easier to look at the positives, because if I start looking at the downside of my life I fear I may not recover.

I am who I am. Even as I say these words I’m confused as to who I really am.

When people describe me, I hear the description of a stranger.

Jokes have become a disguise, a mask, I wear to dry the tears.

My practiced smile has everyone fooled. No one bothers to look further.

All they see is an ordinary girl. I’d like to think that there is more.

Mine is a story being written.

A mystery.

Though I wish I knew how it ends.

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