the threads in her head

How do I say this?

Yea, how do I say this without sounding angsty, or whiny? For that is not my point. But what then. What's the point, what's the purpose? Oh, if I knew, that would be the driving force for me to continue writing, for it's something to write for.

But seemingly there's none. Oh yes, throw out possible reasons at me like multiple choice. To remember, to record, to express, for others to relate, for something to look back on, all of the above. But this is not some final year exam in which there is a definite universally correct answer. For there's none.

Different people are driven for different reasons. And it seems like my reasons are but a whirling mess of emotions and ambiguity. And it's my mess. My own.

And yet when I write of it, it comes out as some stuff that teenagers all over the world are talking about. And I fear that. I fear that what I'm saying is gonna be shoved away into someone's brain as oh-so-typical, and that my words do not reflect myself, but a warped version of it.

How do you write of such stuff without sounding too shallow, and yet not elevating to a state which it isn't. Or have my fancies always pushed things up higher, make it seem more invisible and untouchable...

It is tiring to think of such stuff. But still I do. Still I do.

And then I don't write.

Someone see through the order of words into the real chaos of thoughts please..