Venting I don't know who I am

[Signal]

It hurts not knowing who I am. It hurts not finding myself. I'm supposed to be the only thing I have, and if I can't find myself, if I
don't recognize myself… then what do I have?
I have nothing.
I'm just meat.
I live inside this carcass, knowing very well what kind of destiny awaits me. But some part of me still wants to find me, even if it hurts, even if I don't like the answer. It can't be worse than this, this emptiness and pain that consumes me.
But maybe I already know the answer. Maybe I'm just a broken being, all my pieces lost, now nothing more than a shadow of what I once was. Is this all there is to me? Am I nothing more than my pain? Than my sorrow? Than my regrets? If so, then what do I become when you take all that from me? What am I without this sadness?
Maybe that's why I've come to feel comfortable with it. It's a bad companion, but it's better than having nothing at all. At least I know that late at night, I won't be completely alone, because it will be there with me, right by my side.

 

[shampoo sniffer]

Me neither. But I heard that this feeling is a common response to trauma.

I spent a great deal of my childhood and teen years disassociated. Still disassociate to this day to escape my crappy life.

 

[Doll Steak]

Yes, it hurts, even though I look like I have an identity on the outside I still feel out of the loop of everything. Not one side or the other, not this or that, never in only one headspace. Just a conscious mass of cells forever in motion, nothing ever feels settled.