User Profile

A lot can change in a year.

The person I thought I was at the beginning of 2008 is not the person I am at the end of 2008. I don't know where that person went or how to get her back, and I don't even know if I know who I am right now, but I can try to explain.

My name is Breanne. I'm 18 years old. In pursuit of a boy who turned out to be not-so-worth-it in the end, I moved six hours away from everything I've ever loved and ended up totally alone. I miss being at home, I miss having a family, I miss being alive. I miss my babies.

I'm a music lover--that much hasn't changed. My whole life can be defined by or at least quantified by, in some way, music. It has been my passion, my drive, for as long as I can remember.

I have Asperger's Syndrome, which is a form of high-functioning autism. I have trouble making friends, I fixate on things, and sometimes I hit my head when I'm angry or overwhelmed. Please be patient with me, I'm sure there's a friendly, sweet person in there somewhere. ;)

I won't be defined by my sexuality. Something--one of the most valuable things that I ever have--I've learned in my long and ponderous journey toward adulthood is that not everything is black and white, no matter how much my brain desires it to be. I don't need to feel ashamed by the fact that I love everyone equally, regardless of gender, because this puts me at an advantage--no limitations! It's taken me a long time to realise that even if you don't fit neatly into any sexual box, you're still normal and healthy and able to have relationships...even if you've had a little bad luck with that lately.

I write. I haven't written very much in awhile, but I am a writer--I feel somehow freed by my ability to use the written word to express myself, even though when I need it the most, I can't. I want to share this gift with the world, and I want other people to be able to see that, even in spite of my other flaws, I have a talent for something.

I've kept this diary for two and a half years--longer than I've ever kept any other diary, anywhere else. Why? I don't know. Maybe I'm just a shameless exhibitionist. I might not like myself all the time, but I think that I'm still a work in progress. Think of this as an architect's journal, except that instead of building a building, I'm building a person.

Lyrical food for thought:
Should I call you officer? Cos you're asking all the questions that I get at the border
I know you want to file me away with the girls who disappoint you every day
I'm no better, staring at your mouth, making other plans as the words come out
It's hard to choose in a crowded room, you're never satisfied with the one you're talking to
And if I believe in Jesus, like a little girl in her Sunday dress, and if I live forever like Elvis, would I be perfect?
Perfect? Where did I go when I lost myself?
Well, I'm not what I claim to be and I've heard you whispering when I leave
We're all trying to leave no trace, but somehow your life gets written on your face
And if I believe in Jesus, like a little girl in her Sunday dress, and if I live forever like Elvis, would I be perfect?
Perfect? Where did I go when I lost myself?
And what am I going to tell that little girl when she asks me what I left for her
And what am I going to tell that little girl when she runs home crying, it's a cruel cruel world
And what am I going to tell that little girl, that little girl
I'm 22 and I've been through hell, where did I go when I lost myself?
Where did I go when I lost myself?
Where did I go when I lost myself?
And if I believe in Jesus like a little girl in her Sunday dress, and if I live forever like Elvis, would I be, yeah
And if I believe in Jesus, like a little girl in her Sunday dress, and if I live forever like Elvis, would I be perfect?
Where did I go when I lost myself?
Perfect
Where did I go when I lost myself?

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