grow up where you're planted?

Why does it scare us that things don't always last forever? Why do I pity those who are alone in their lives? But then, why do I wish for independence?

I guess I've been scared of one thing forever, and it's being defined. I never revel in any one definition of myself. I want to be seen as smart, but not just a smart girl and as hip, but not one-dimensionally so. I want to be beautiful, but not in a flimsy disposable way. I don't want to be seen as the person who needs others or the person who shuns the world. I feel totally uncomfortable around people who don't know me that well, because I know that they either see one part of me or another. Without this understanding of who I am, they're left to guess what kind of person I am. Meanwhile, I wonder if who I am is something I even want to try to define.

I was on top of the world last night, but today I feel there is higher to go.  I want to shoot upwards quickly like an arabidopsis plant, but I know that I can't grow this way without suffering a little. When you take the plant out of the fridge and the gel and put it in the soil, you very well may damage the roots. The seed is stressed out in the growth chamber for a while, but then it eventually recovers and resettles its roots, after a couple days of being covered and watered. But I fear so much the pain of having my surroundings shaken that I cling to the plate and the gel. I know though, that I'll eventually outgrow the plate and if never put into soil, I could just wither away and dry out.

However, it's not just a question of my pain. It's also the pain of the other seeds planted next to me right in the gel. As I am lifted off the plate, I am lifted away from the others, and maybe their roots will get ripped as a consequence of our entanglement-- it can happen when you leave a plate growing for too long. Does changing your life always have to change the lives of others? Is it better in the long run?