I am Fickle

I am the girl next door, but secretly I’m one fickle trouble-thinker. If you think you know me, check again, because I’m constantly shifting and squirming in my own skin until the butterfly evolves. I say what is to be expected, I am polite when need be, but my thoughts swerve inside me like a seasick cancer. My diagnosis is confusion.

I am fickle when it comes to deciding on issues, branching from the politics of my own purpose to the people surrounding me. Sometimes, despite my fear-laden thoughts, these people consistently become monsters and they yell, they fight, they push. My imagination takes over only in the most desperate of times. These people do not understand me. Surprisingly, though, I’m obsessed with people. I love the way they talk, the way they move, the way they think. I have this incessant infatuation with the engineering of the human mind. But most of the time, I just want to be me. Whoever that is.

I am fickle when I think of my town because, though we give the aura here of future and promise, it will forever be the somewhat little town of Roswell. But sometimes, most of the time, I feel incredibly cornered and suffocated in this little town. As I drown in expectations, there are long drives to take me far away from these little people in this little town where they become such big people in such a big town.

 I am fickle when the thought of leaving a place all my fears, failures and friendships have been a part of me leaps to mind. The terror of beginning a future for myself sets in and ingrains itself, weaving into the emotional parts of my brain. There are too many options for a career choice: be a writer or a public speaker or a psychologist or or or. OR WHAT!  The impervious future hangs in front of my face like a cat toy but here I am in my room, fickled out with writer’s block. I cannot possibly imagine anyone ever being more fickle and unstable and confused as I am. When will the mortal coil be over?  

I am fickle when it comes to me.

Me.

Somehow, finding myself has become this inconceivably grueling task throughout the years because there are all these possibilities to choose from. And over the years, I have found that as I became quieter, my thoughts have grown louder.

But for the mean time, my benumbed mind has said its fill.

For the time being, I’m still me, and I’m still fickle.

 

Reviews

[Time's The Bond]

I don't know...
It sounds like you are telling us about yourself it's not really a story.
More of a really long free written poem
or
You just telling us about one of your characteristics.