On paper, I seem like the perfect child. But I’m not. I don’t have a big secret or a dark past or scars or anything, but on the inside I’m chaos.

And I’m writing this because I’m confused.

I write a lot. Most of it never makes the paper. I think in stories. In sentences with juicy details and adjectives and a meaning. My mind is always writing my own story. Even now as my pen is racing across the paper, my mind is already far ahead. Sometimes it even describes the scene of me in bed writing. I live my life as an unstructured, never ending book.

I am a good girl. I have straight A’s. But I am a chronic procrastinator. If a teacher assigns questions about a reading, I never actually read it. I just find the answers. And I do entire projects in hours. And essays in half an hour. I take tests in different ways every class, each way tailored to that specific teacher. I’m manipulative.

On paper, I’m a great student. But if you saw me work, you’d know better.

I’ve never been in love. And I cannot picture myself in a relationship. But that doesn’t make me sad. And sometimes I feel like I should be sad, but I’m just not. I’m not complaining, just confused.

I’m a fangirl... I get obsessed easily. South Park, Little Mix, Celebrity Juice, Bad Education, Ed Sheeran, and Cheryl Cole to name a few of my obsessions. There are a lot more, believe me. I recently saw a Taylor Swift concert. 13,000 other people were there. She blew me a kiss. Or, at least she blew a kiss to someone around me. And I felt so special for a moment.

And then I thought about the countless numbers of people I’d waved to in my life. Or said hello to. I don’t remember any of them.

Or on the subway. So my many people pass you by. But no one really cares who you are or where you’re going.

Thinking about that makes me realize how small and insignificant I am. But I’m never sad. And I’m not complaining, just confused.

There’s a quote that comes to mind from the last paragraph. It’s from an anonymous source. But I think anonymous found the meaning of life. The quote goes: “To the world you may be one person, but to one person you may be the world.” I love that.

I’ve never had any serious problems. I was first exposed to eating disorders in 7th grade. My friend told me she was anorexic. But she’d eat in front of me. So I dismissed it as a lie. That is one of my biggest regrets to this day.

As for myself, I eat a lot. And I love food. I don’t love my body completely and I know I’m not the skinniest girl, but it doesn’t bother me. And I’m not complaining, just confused. Confused why I never once thought of stopping to eat, and why other people find it so natural to stop.

I’ve never been bullied. Nor have I ever bullied anyone. Only once have I ever seen bullying and I did something to stop it. But it concerns me. Maybe I’m just blind.

I’ve never been popular. Nor have I ever cared. I love my friends. I’ve always had a gift for surrounding myself with dependable, caring people. I don’t know why they’re friends with me, but I love them for it. Fitting in has never been a priority. And I’m not complaining, just confused. Confused why some people aren’t accepted. And confused by how hard people try to fit in.

I’ve never self-harmed or hated myself. I was first exposed to self-harm by my friend in 7th grade... it was a big year for me. My friend was almost... proud of her scars. That scared me and gave me the wrong impression. I now know that most scars are well hidden. And yet I never find scars on anyone else. And I don’t know if that means they aren’t there or if it means I’m not looking hard enough.

Self-hate is the only thing that ever truly makes me sad. Some people hate themselves and/or the world so much they decide to end it all. The most suicidal thought I’ve ever had was the childish fancy of what someone would do if I died? Out of spite, not sadness, I’d think of my own death. Only for the sake of imagining it, not with any real intent.

I had a babysitter. She died of an overdose of medication. No one knows if it was intentional... That’s the only time I’ve ever encountered suicide personally.

Sometimes I lose track of the meaning of life. I feel myself fall into the pattern of life without any real passion. Those are the days I don’t do my homework. Instead, I paint. Not because I’m good at it, but because I want to. And because paint is one thing that no one can control. But I never get depressed. And I’m not complaining.

This entire ramble started because today I realized that I’ve never ditched anything. I’ve never drank alcohol. I’ve never done drugs. I’ve always been good.

The worst thing I’ve ever done like that is switched the tags on clothing for a better price. One time, with a friend.

Maybe its because of my childhood. My parents have a healthy relationship, and I grew up hearing that I was loved every day. I am one of the luckiest, happiest people I know. But I don’t understand why. The world is such a cruel, awful place to so many people, but I have never had anything but joy. I volunteer and try to give back, but I can never understand the world’s evils since I’ve never faced them myself. This makes me almost as sad as those evils themselves. So many people are in the dark, and I am floating in a bubble. And I feel both clueless and helpless on how to change that.

So on paper, I’m pretty much the perfect kid. But I’m confused. And I don’t know where I’m going in life.

These are the confessions of one with nothing to confess.