A Person With No Identity

by Musicality

A time comes
When people learn
They're different
Unique
Out of the ordinary
Part of an intricate plan of the universe.
They are special
Because
There is only one of them
They have a personal flair.

I never saw myself that way.
Truth be told
I picture me
As an amalgamation
An amalgamation of people
People I know
People I see
People I imagine
Sewn together haphazardly
A mishmash
Eccentric,
if only because
The bits and pieces
That make me
Are those that people
Either Truly
Enjoy
or Despise.

Cacophonous clattering, continuous chattering
Embeds itself into how I perceive
The world around me
Yet, it doesn't move me
Words while beautiful
Are used as pretexts
Or in facetious contexts
And I am blinded
I cannot find a foothold for me
Because there is no me
Just a young woman
who others try to comprehend, whose smile
lights the room
Because people are able to find minuscule
A tiny reminder
of themselves, or others
of Naivete
Forgetting that in their pleasant or chilling reminiscence
Displaces the identity I've struggled
To uncover,
Unmask
And to accept with gratitude.

I may not be anything out of the ordinary
or special
unique
or possessive of qualities people admire
Still
I am everybody
Similar, Same as someone
Somehow
Proud to be
Me