Just Jill

There are days where I sit in whatever little space I happen to be in, listening to musical favorites such as Ray LaMontagne or Citizen Cope or my recent love Brett Dennen.  I begin to feel so at peace with myself that I start to suspect I'm an imposter. Like I have this stuck-in-overdrive need to define myself. And for what? So I can fit into some kind of category neatly filed away in the "walks of life" folder? I personally feel that my need to do this is out of a deep concern that I'm normal, boring, unoriginal. Which is ironic only because I spend the other half of my energy worrying that in fact I may just be abnormal afterall. Sometimes its exhausting living in a jilly world. I remember this one time my sister filled out some stupid facebook or email survey about me (that we all used to do in the beginning...don't act like you didn't), and upon being asked to describe me using terms such as "sporty, classy, etc" she instead said: she's just jill. I know, I remember the oddest things. But that's besides the point. Maybe I don't need a label or a category to belong in...i mean who really wants that anyway? I guess its that part of ourselves that still exists in 14-year old land where all we want in life is to fit somewhere. Maybe I'm okay with just being jill. I like jill, she's pretty cool...even with all of the unpredictability. Does that make me a bad person?