Why Me?

Who are you, and why should we/I /they care?

It’s a state of being that some believe is known intrinsically while others will spend the rest of their lives trying to figure out. It’s who we are underneath it all.

I’m talk about identity, a.k.a who we are.

Simple word, yet so complicated to accurately define.

We face this question every day. Every new face, every new situation or opportunity forces us to come up with something that resembles who we are or, at least, who we want to be. Actually, it’s whomever we want people to perceive us

Because, let’s be honest here. We’re never really ourselves when we’re around other people. We can put on all of the masks we want or dress ourselves up in whatever disguise we can invent, but our identity is who we are. These personas we craft for ourselves never truly summarize out true nature. Our inner honest selves seem to be woven into the deepest parts of us, telling us who we really are underneath everything.

Problem I’m having? I can’t even reach beyond an inch of the surface of myself to begin to figure out even a glimpse of what my identity even remotely looks like.

I will fully admit to you random internet strangers that I am incredibly lost right now, and it’s killing me not to have a clear answer when asked or even for my own benefit. I’ve been wandering mindlessly through life trying to even come close to figuring out who I am, though honestly,  I’m trying I’m focusing more on who I think I’m supposed to be. I’ve been focused more on the persona I think I’m supposed have or what I think others think I’m supposed to have. I set mindless personal goals under the guise of creating purpose, but purpose without self  isn’t anything other than floating in some mental and personal void.

So basically, I’m just stuck.

Maybe that’s why I’m in such a creative rut. It’s even been a struggle to write about having a struggle. How can I write characters with personalities when I barely know anything about the character that inhabits my brain? I suppose that’s a key to being a good writer. Whether non-fiction or fiction, writing involves telling a story. A story, a good one anyway,  involves well-rounded characters. Even if these characters aren’t fully developed at the start of the journey, they at least have a base from which to start figuring the question of identity out.

It’s a hell of a lot better than my own personal situation.

Life is just one long, continuously developing story, and I can’t seem to write my own character that well.  In fictional stories, the protagonist always seem to have at least a partially formed sense of self. They know who they are, at least, partially.

I think this protagonist took a wrong turn on identity road.

I don’t know if I’m gaining momentum trying to find my inner me. I keep waiting for something to click into place, for a piece of the puzzle to click into place, and they do, but the picture is still so incredibly blurry.

I don’t know who I am, but thank you, Random Internet Strangers, for going on this journey with me.

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