break.

Who am I anyway? Why do I feel sick to my stomach when I see someone dressed the way I wish I was dressed, but I don't know how to do it? I can't dress that way because: I don't know why. Why can't I sit down long enough to write something decent? What is wrong with me?
I want it, I wish I could. Who am I? And how did I get so old and raggedy? Where did I go?