Who am I? I am Derwin M***** Allen. Who am I truly? I am a depressive self-doubting maniacal demon, who lacks the knowledge that is put in front of him. I will never understand myself completely. I have this habit of placing my words, lines, paragraphs in these little lines that hold a great meaning to me. I’ve always wanted to tell someone how much I’ve wanted to be someone as if I meant something to them. I tend to constantly write about my life and how I have opinions on things, I feel that If I do people will finally understand me, the real me. Yet it seems like I share my thoughts alone on things, I don’t see the world in Technicolor anymore, I see everything as it is there are no bright lights or brilliant sounds everything is as it is to me. The world seems to have lost color when I finally realized that nothing will ever be the same as we grow old, that as we grow old no matter how positive we are the negative will outweigh the good because life is meant to be this way. People tell me that misery loves company, yet they don’t understand that loneliness is just like misery yet all a lonely man wants is a smile and a hug from someone he cares for. After each sentence I’ve written I keep asking myself a question and I can’t answer it, it’s almost as if I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I want to ask myself why I’ve been so down lately, all I can think of is that I’m just lonely or maybe I’m lacking something key within my life. All of my emotions are constantly strung out upon a small thread and finely adjusted until they are played to a perfection of no other. I don’t think I’ll be able to understand myself for a long while. I’m only a teenager, all I can do is be told how much I let everyone down, how much I am disappointing you, or how intelligent I am. I don’t really know who I am, but then again I don’t really care because I am okay with how my life is.