These stories don't mean anything when you've got no one to tell them to

I've been considering a few things lately. Have you ever wondered what dictates your personality? Is it your circumstance? Is it the clothes you wear, the music you listen to, the company you keep? Does it have anything to do with your family and your hometown? What about your high school? Middle school? Primary school? How is it that two children can be given the exact same upbringing and become two people who wouldn't be recognizable as relatives save their shared genetics?

What is it about me that makes me, well...me? Do I exude some sort of presence that no one else possesses? Do my natural talents and quirks enable people to get along with me more? And why have I encountered a few choice people who have determined that I will be their enemy and nemesis? I have yet to find a cause for friends and enemies, but as long as I have more of the former, I will count myself lucky.

I've also been thinking about a persons ability to do certain things. For instance, I am very good at remembering random facts and numbers. I could tell you a lot of birthdays and dates of importance, I can do simple math in my head about as quickly as someone can punch it into a calculator and I have yet to find a way to give my mind some rest. I even dream nearly every night. But I am terrible at inferring the emotions of others, terrible at editing papers properly and talking to a large group of people still terrifies me. I am also bad at romance, can never completely glean all the proper information out of a book and I lie far too often for it to be a healthy habit.

My point is, where do I really come from? I started as two cells and somehow came to be me. A whole person who dreams of being someone important, but who is terrified at presenting herself to others. I was born to look the way I do and talk the way I talk and I don't think anyone could really convince me that my upbringing had anything to do with it. I do wish to be more fit and to be more feminine at times, but at the end of the day I can look into the mirror and appreciate the little things that make me me. I like the curl in my hair that won't do anything I try to get it to do. I like that my eyes aren't the same shape and even with all the problems it causes, I like that I have trouble sleeping because it makes the hours I do sleep all the more important.

That's all I think about. Well, not all, but all for now.

Songs to consider:

The Story (Brandi Carlile)
Warwick Avenue (Duffy)
I Will Possess Your Heart (Death Cab For Cutie)