This piece is immensely personal and I don't exactly feel comfortable elaborating on the subject, but to anyone else who can relate I would like to leave a quote from one of my most cherish books, White Oleander by Janet Fitch.  This novel was my lifeline when things became increasingly difficult to deal with during my high school years, and I still read it at least once a year...

"Who am I? I am who I say I am and tomorrow someone else entirely. You are too nostalgic, you want memory to secure you, console you. The past is a bore. What matters is only oneself and what one creates from what one has learned. Imagination uses what it needs and discards the rest - where you want erect a museum. Don't hoard the past, Astrid. Don't cherish anything. Burn it. The artist is the phoenix who burns to emerge."