Who DID you think I was?

Indeed.. For in the words of Mayer, Who really did you think I was?
Your presumptions and assumptions fuel my every fiber.
Gone are the days of insecurity about who I thought I was. I have, over the course of a lot of mental anguish, learned the tough way to accept who I was and who I’ve become. This is the me that is most practical to me. And although I’ve not willingly gone down the road that led me to where I currently stand and though I’ve had others influence every step of this way, I’ve long realized the pointlessness of fighting the current.
Assumptions about the man I could have become, to me is as relevant as telling me I’m king of the world. I don’t fight fate in wars wherein defeat is almost so certain, I can taste it!
I fight circumstances, and while this is true, my world is a complex web of events all interlocked with each other like lovers. Trying to undo even one knot is lighting up three others. Every positive step that I even consider makes me realize the minuteness of the effort in terms of actual outcome! I cannot go through life unweaving my past, I definitely lack the time for it in my present mental state

Telling me that I live a life which I’m going to regret, while not doing a thing for my resolve to change, pricks at my very state of being. I’ve come to terms with my so called ‘lost opportunities’ and ‘failures’. What I don’t need is someone constantly reminding me of my missed opportunities. What I don’t need, I someone pointing out the person I could’ve been. To me, I’m already that person. I already bring myself down with the life I lead. I already suffer in silent regret with the choices I’ve made. I’ve already killed myself a million times over the fact that I’ve let other people make the only decisions that would matter to me in ten years. And while the years lost can never be got back, they can also never be made up for. Not even with the monumental effort in terms which I could possibly muster.

My life to me is a living and growing testament that everyone ultimately is a conformist.
I honestly never thought me to be one, but as I soon realize how deep the hooks of society and social/family influences go, I cannot even being to attempt getting them off. What if who I am is attached to even one of these hooks? What if pulling them out restructures me as a person? Can I afford to change who I’ve been for almost quarter decade? Do I really want it that bad?

Hence I’ll always be me. I’ll always been a person weighed down with the weight of the world and filled with unknowable regrets. And I say regrets because I’m more than aware of the multitude of them that exist. Regrets that tie into every action, every reaction and every thought not acted upon in my short life.
“Soon” I tell myself. Soon, I’ll learn to completely accept the fact that I’m born to conform. Soon I’ll give up on my dreams and ambitions. The world will have won yet another soul in the short scheme of things. But I’m ok with it. Embracing destiny they call it.
Well the final stage of death IS acceptance.