Growing Pain

I stared at my shoes and I knew it was over.
I was silent.
This all seemed too familiar.
The clicking sound coming from my '92 Honda Civic that we were sitting in didn't seem to break my silence.
She held my hand and said, "I wish I could hate you, but I just can't."
She said that you need time alone to sort out things in your head.
She said you need to bury things from your past, or dig them back up.
She said you need to figure yourself out.
And as I drove away that night, I realised the scariest part of everything she said.
The scariest part was that I feel like I've been trying to figure myself out for the past twenty five years.
I don't even know who I am.
It makes me walk away from people that care about me.
This seems to always happen.
I find myself attached to people and things that no longer think about me.
I don't see street lights, and street signs; I see memories and faces that no one else think about anymore, except me.
I don't know who I am anymore.
I've broken hearts, and I've broken promises.
That's not who I am anymore.
I've slept on strangers' couches, and I've slept on floors with a smile on my face.
That's not who I am anymore.
I used to feel confident about myself.
That's not who I am anymore.
Do you want to know who I am?
I've let my past get to me more than I care to admit.
That's who I am.
There's times I lie and tell people that I have plans, when I really don't.
All because I just want to sit alone and think too much.
That's who I am.
I sit up at night and wonder who I miss.
I wonder what I miss, and in between the late night TV I'm not paying attention to, I wonder if I really miss anything or anyone at all.
That's who I am.
But that's not who I want to be.
I'm in a weird spot.
All I know is that I'm sick of my past carving out what the present isn't supposed to be.
I think this is all a growing pain.
I'm not sure what it's growing towards, but it's something.