Such great hights in Blackbird.

I've been writing the wrong date all day. Dang it. I hate when I do that.

Doesn't shock me, though. I've always lived in the future, but lately I've been living a little behind.

I want to be sixteen again, in my old body, in Estonia, with the heart I have now.

Wouldn't it be nice? Cue the Beach Boys.

But I don't have a fairy godmother, and Dreamworks didn't produce my life.

So, instead I have Blackbird Coffee and Iron&Wine. Instead, I go to antiques shops, buy things, and act like I live the in the 1800s.

I bought a ring at Antebellum's Attic today downtown. I guess to remind myself that I'm an old soul. Maybe to make myself feel timeless, like an old black and white.

When I put it on, I could almost feel my long 20s hair style fall down by my ears in soft curls. Only to note in a nearby mirror, that my hair is in fact up in the same old bun, the same old washed and tossed up look I've been rocking for the later half of 2010 when I began to genuinely not enjoy myself, tossed up my arms in surrender, and my hair went with them into my trademark bun.

I'd also like to note that I was dressed in what I've heard called "The Sam Cole"...an oversized grey sweater, skinny jeans, flats, and earrings if I'm feelin' frisky.

I used to be told I have an old soul, that I was timeless. Now I just feel old and out of time; out of step and out of sync.

As if every 20-year-old doesn't have a "who am I" or "have I lost myself" phase.

I guess my time is now.

There is a difference in timeless, and just boring. Constant.

I think I'm straddling the line a little bit.

I've lost who I am in frustration. In competition. In care, paranoia, anxiousness, fear, loathing, and just plain crap, for lack of eloquent speech.

I know how every movie tells me to go "find myself," and every bad break up someone has to go off to some odd country and "find themselves."

But I don't feel like I've lost myself, I feel like it left me.

Like myself abandoned me.

I'd like for myself to find its way back to me.

I can see the flyers now:

"If found or see, please contact.

Love, a concerned shell."

Could I be more dramatic? Probably.

Until I am found, I'll look at my ring and remind myself of my identity, who I am, cling to my God who calls me by name, and wait patiently for the day me finds me.

I miss you.