where you end, and i begin

Oscar Wilde once said, " my great mistake, the fault for which i can't forgive myself, is that one day i ceased my obstinate pursuit of my own individuality."

Where do we find ourselves?
i can't understand why so many people preoccupy themselves with the question of "what is life". i favour to think that what actually leads them to question, is the fact that they do not even know what the question itself is.
this time i lost myself, or rather, i found myself lost. now, i don't know where i am, who i am. i thought i knew, oh, everyone thinks they know themselves; and it takes something like this to wake them up from slumber. spring is here, and it isn't pretty, because you choose for it not to be pretty. it could have been great; sweet scented flowers, warm bathing sunshine, colours everywhere, white fluffy clouds upon light blue skies, the sound of birds singing sweet melodies upon rosewood trees. it could have been. it should have been. so what do we do now? what do i do now? lie on soft grass and never get up from the comfort? quit? give-up? No. this time, i lost myself. i don't know who i am anymore. i thought i knew me...oh i so thought i knew me. then again surprises happen, don't they? so right now, i'm gonna begin the toughest fight of my life, and hell, i'm gonna give it the most i got, i'm gonna give my demons hell.
if this is tragedy, then give me tragedy.