On me demande toujours pour une identite

Not knowing things make me feel uncomfortable. I want to know where I'm going. I want to know what to do. I want and love when people facilitate by telling me what to do. In a funny way. Not that I like being ordered around. I just like suggestions that fit into my desire for a simpler life full of everything I want. Or something. You know? Of course you don't. I don't, either.
When I look at descriptions of possible near futures, I want to be excited, prepared, and in planning mode. I don't want to feel worried, uncomfortable, and confused. I want to know where I should be, and whether I'm going to ever feel excited and prepared in that sort of a life. I want to know in advance whether I fit into this groove, or if people are pushing and snipping at my corners to try to make me fit, like a piece of sky in a puzzle of kittens in bows. I need to know that where I'm going, there will be a place for everything and everyone I want, and I will be happy and stable and not alone and tired. I want to know if I'm actually like those people, the ones with success stamped across their names and their genuine smiles.
Maybe it's because in my world, there is a clear view of a select few who know wholly and completely where they belong. They don't need a support group to hold their hands and swear up and down of their talent and prowess; they are confidant, they are unique and they are more than content. It would frustrate and depress me to not feel as they are feeling. I just don't know how to accomplish that feeling, and I need to know before I can take any more steps. Maybe that's why I'm so worried about finding myself belonging and thriving so early in my steps. All I know is that all this writing about it, and talking about it, doesn't seem to help at all. I still have this nagging doubt in my mind that will not go away, until someone gives me something else to focus on.

And more than that, I need people. I love the people around me. I don't know how to progress without them anymore. More importantly, they break me more and more because I know I shouldn't give up a potential dream/future for them, but I want to so bad.

And you.

 You can tell me not to think, and you can tell me not to worry, and you can tell me not to cry and even brush and kiss those stains away. But things are coming up fast, things that neither of us can deal with properly, when I am too emotional and you too stubborn and trusting and both of us unwilling to let go of ideas and each other. The truth is is that we have sewn you into me so tightly that nothing we do can separate you without tearing into me. I know you hate it when I'm angsty. I do too. But I'm just so gosh darn good at it, don't you think?