The Pressure of Prestige & My Goal for Seventeen

The pressure of being the absolute cutest thing anyone and everyone has ever seen, is really high. REALLY, high.
Wether this topic is something my mind just feeds off of at 2:32 AM, or I really feel like this is an issue, but it's really hard for me to pinpoint the kind of person I am. In some aspects of my life, I feel like a walking contradiction.

I feel like, I don't know who or what I am. Or what my style is. Or what my personality is like. Or what the image I give off is like. Or how right I am doing things.

I'm a pretty superficial person. It's sad, but it's true. I worry about the way people see me. And what they see me for. Or what they think. Now, here's the catch.
I am a very introverted person. Very. I try to not be influenced by very many things. I stick to myself. I keep many things to myself. I don't really make an effort to put myself out there. I don't really care what others think. I feel pretty selfish about it.
But at the same time, I see all these people that just look like they have everything put together. Everything about them matches up. Everything is right for them. They are all in check with themselves. Of course I would say this just from seeing the outside of people, because of my superficiality.
I have this little friend called "comparison", and we hang out a LOT. Here's a feeling that comes along with good ole comparison..

I feel like, a noodle. A single noodle, a small, and introverted little noodle in a big big bowl. Where the world is trying on all these cheeses, and spices, and sauces on me, to perfect the way I taste to the world. When all you really have is just a bunch of confusing colours and textures and elements in a giant bowl, that eventually hide and confuse the noodle.
(Don't hold me accountable for any overly creative or imaginative scenarios/creations/thoughts/stories/outlooks on life as pasta at 2:32 AM)

I feel like I'm just plane Jane. Walking around in T-shirts with my head down, trying not to be noticed, not speaking out. And as you can tell, I have a lot to say. (Just nothing is really worth saying.)

I don't know exactly why I feel like this should be a blog post. Maybe it's just in the heat of 2:32 AM that I wanted to speak all these feelings. Maybe I'm just documenting my crazy thought process to come back to ten years down the road and say "hey man, what am I thinking? I was crazy confused back then!". But here's the MAIN POINT of this diary entry no one is very interested in..
I'm turning seventeen on Friday. Seven. Freakin'. Teen. I have right now, 370 days until I am considered an adult. (HAHAHAHAHA.) I gotta get it together. I gotta work things out within myself. I gotta decide what I want to be and what I want to portray to the world, and not be afraid to say "Hey! Look at me! I finally figured meeee out, come take a look, because I'm proud of meeee!"

That's my goal for being seventeen. Before I splash into the big pasta salad, Take a whole year to figure out for my own noodle self who I am and who I want to be, and what I want to taste like to the world.