Myself.

I'm becoming very involved in life of late. I've taken a dominant role in deciding its course, I'm no longer letting depression sweep me along. I am wholly myself. I am in control.
I'm allowing myself to speak up rather than be crippled by guilt about what could happen. My opinions are being voiced, and though the manner in which they are voiced need some work, they are clearly expressed.
I am becoming engaged in my passions again. In Literature, we're studying Ted Hughes' poetry- well to be honest we've finished, and only an essay is left to write- but I feel inflamed by inspiration, it is as if this fire has grown a solid base under me, its warmth is bouyant and I am untouchable. I remember the reason I am so passionate about words and language, and about the meaning they create. I am a force and I will continue until the power within me has subsided. I know why  I want to teach. This passion. This passion drives me, and if there is one thing I'd like to accomplish in life it would be to express and perhaps inspire this passion in others.
And love. Passion and love. If there's one thing I'm not lacking it's love. My relationship with my boyfriend feels as though it is blossoming into another new level. I have once again been thrown into the tumultuous vortex and I am falling again, though this time I'm ready to relinquish all control. Adolescence may be the game I play, but I don't need to abide by its rules. If it tells me I may not fall in love at 16, and particularly in different stages, I argue. Adolescent rules are simply wrong and cynical and I am living proof.
Passion. This is my life at the moment. I am fuelled by my beliefs and values and emotions. I am fully engaged in myself. Christ, I'm smiling more than a few months ago I would have even thought possible.
I am defined by myself. Not my relationship, not my instability, not my reputation, but by myself.