It's that voice in my head.

It is constantly waking me from deep sleeps and shallow dreams. The voice asks if I am happy, if I know who I am, if I believe... but I don't have the answers.
Does anybody?
On a good day, my answer is always yes. Most days aren't good, though. I, like anyone else on this earth, have my flaws, my faults, my wrongs, regrets, and reasons. Irrational and irritating. I am.
I have off days and on days, days that come prescribed with a small dose of this and a spoonful of that... always best taken with a meal or glass of milk. I have my days where I feel like a celebrity and days where I wish no one knew my name.
But the voice... it only speaks when I'm happy enough to ignore it, or when I'm too lost to hear anything else.
Just now, I was minding my own business, laying next to my sleeping boyfriend and out of nowhere... "What if time just stopped?"
Umm HELLO. What? Why are you asking me this? What do you mean?
After about 20 minutes of asking myself what that question meant, I wanted to cry.
What if time did stop? Are you happy where you are right now? If you got stuck in this moment for the rest of eternity, would you be content. Comfortable? Happy with your company? Happy with your accomplishments? Happy with your self?
In my head I'm thinking no. I'm not done living yet - I have more to look forward to.
If I died right now... who would remember me? Would I be missed?
My name comes with no medals or awards. No trophies or honors. I have wasted away most of my almost 21 years dreaming.
I am a dreamer. That is the only thing I am absolutely sure of.
The voice makes me look back on my past. Memories made and loves lost. Final goodbyes and first hellos. And every time I look back, I see the same faces. Faces that I left behind. Faces that I miss.
The conversations we had in my garage, under the stars, on instant messanger, in folded up notes, behide the bleachers. They are everywhere. And I wonder: do you think about those days too? Did they mean something to you?
The voice and I do not converse. The last real conversation I had was probably with my journal. So every time it wakes me... I'm alone. I'm left to sit and wonder because I can't sleep. Can you?