A Friend's Lost Memories (COMPLETED)

Copying Machine

My feelings are often twisted.  I find myself constantly trying to mold/adapt/change them to better suit others.  People always say, "Be yourself!  After all, it's easier than copying someone else."  I am a mimic.  Ever since I can remember, I have been changing myself to fit other people, be like them.  Now I don't know what is me and what I've adopted.  It's unhealthy.  I even find myself copying other people's strides when I walk/run next to them.  I read a science fiction book about an artificial intelligence trying to take over the world.  It downloaded certain aspects from other software that helped it succeed in destroying them.  It scares me how much I relate to the AI.  I can and will copy your mannerisms, tells, speech pattern, emotion or opinion about a particular subject, I can copy your art style after seeing one picture.  I am a mix of copies of other people.  Maybe, the me that I was years ago, is still in there somewhere, but where and how much is left, I can't even tell.  I can and will change my opinion and/or feelings about a subject or event based on the mood of a room.  I am a copying machine, not a human being.  I dye my hair frequently to try to have a sense of individuality, but people say that it is almost like I am having an identity crisis, which isn't too far from the truth.

I have changed myself so many times for so many different people.  I wish I could find myself, so I could find someone who likes me for me.  I can change my feelings, habits, way of life, to better suit someone I like, which usually offsets them, to say the least.  However, I cannot keep any one personality long enough to be more than friends.  To everyone I try to impress, I am simply the psychotic younger sister.  I feel like I complain too much, disgust for myself is something I picked up from others who are disgusted by me.  My problems are insignificant to that of everyone else in the world, yet here I am complaining about it.  Why do I do things?  Because others do things.  Why do I complain?  Because others complain.  Why do I hate myself?  Because others hate me.  My life is one twisted, revolting, humiliating, traumatizing, redundant pattern of events.

I copy and combine people at school and in public for how to act when I'm around people.  The person I am at home is the same.  I know what I am, what I'm doing, but not why.  I never know why.  I don't even know why I am ranting right now.  Whatever the matter, I am sorry you had to read this.  I just needed to vent to faceless strangers on the internet.