Looking Into A Mirror

How can I have nothing to say? How can my brain be empty? It's not like I'm dead. Maybe my mind is on overload or it's a broken puzzle with missing pieces. I just can't imagine how I can get to this age and have nothing to say. Perhaps I've already said it all. I certainly haven't lived it all, although I have done my share of living. I took the eHarmony personality profile and it seems I'm pretty much middle of the road, although they made it sound exciting, like I'm this incredibly flexible dancer able to twirl around all sorts of things and still be able to find my way home in one piece. So maybe I'm not an incomplete puzzle. Maybe I'm finished with one life and there's nothing left to say about that one. Maybe now I'm ready to begin a new life, beyond caring what others think, beyond doing what others do. Perhaps it's the infamous path not taken that's now in front of me. It was just hiding all these years behind my dutiful following of society's rules, of doing what I thought was expected of me. That's a kind of freedom that I like.