Character Sketch?

I am meaning without words, certainly, and certainty with an uncertain countenance, counting all the beats between and among. It's not that I'm not listening to the same music but that I hear it a different way, and it's not that I don't understand people but that I understand them differently. Just as there are many layers to a melody, so there are many layers to who you are, and no one can hear all the notes alone. You might even forget that you have one in some places, and it takes the rest of us to remind you to "listen to the e's", in the music of your life and the world around you.

I am a trapped breath, a stifled thought, a quivering tone that says too much and not enough in a time too small. And you've all been there before when the words don't come and your voice rebels, and for maybe a minute you wish you were somebody else. It's not anxiety so much as an imperfect performance of personality--a personification of the desire to get it all and get it right, like the kid in the front of the room who desperately attempts to transcribe the lecture word for word so that he can be sure he won't miss a beat. Is he just another overachiever with no excuse for his behavior, or is he paranoid? Terrified of life without knowledge and the security of it? Terrified that he'll get it wrong and never get another chance? And you know that when he does, he'll try his best never to make the same mistake twice, but that's the part I consider my vice. I'll try and try, but the mistakes just hide, chameleons like me. They change their colors more often than I, and it's like shooting darts into the night. Be my flashlight.

I am a room full of things that don't fit together or anywhere else but paradoxically seem to be just right where they are. I am old posters and haphazard paint jobs and pictures of long lost friends in boxes on your floor. I am the clutter and the laundry that never goes away. I'm the keys you can't find and the gross, unidentifiable dinner plate you wish you hadn't. I am a shelf full of books and secrets just waiting to be heard. It's a mess, maybe unlivable by the standards of most, but you think it's home, and you know exactly where everything is and that that's exactly how it should be. And even if it doesn't look like I know what I'm doing, I know that everything is in its place, and if it isn't, I know I'll find the right one someday. It may take till the day I move out to find that perfect spot, but you can be sure that I know it's there.

I am the pleasure found in patience, the power found in perseverance, and the person found in people, and I pray that I may never forget that I am proud to play as ME.