Everything I've done seems to only been done because of my consuming need for approval. The bits that make me, were never really me. Just pieces others found appealing. So I latched onto this idea. This ideal. That if I be these things. If I like these things. People will want me around. People will like me. People will never go away.I tried so hard to be what others wanted without even realizing it. Without realizing that after so long that there is nothing here beneath the la
yers of borrowed personalities. Nothing but a sad girl who doesn't want to be alone. Who wants desperately to be approved of. I don't know who I am. Underneath this. How can I love myself when I am a stranger to myself? Where does the borrowed likes and dislikes end and the real me begin? Who am I?