I got this strange idea when I got out of the shower a few
days back. I was over analyzing something, like I usually am, and I stopped for
a second. It took me a second to come to the conclusion that I don’t know who I
am. And then lots and lots of thoughts rushed to be acknowledged.
I am a daughter and a granddaughter at the same time. I can
see my grandma’s eyes when I look into the mirror and my mom’s freckles. I can
see my dad’s dimple and I can distinguish my other grandma’s empathy. I am a
sister. A shitty one at times, and the best one oh so rarely. I am sometimes a
cousin or an aunt or a niece, but I don’t really get along with my extended
family. I am a friend. A very good one for some and an average one for others. I
am a best friend and I am an acquaintance. I am a teacher for that neighbor who
couldn’t learn math. I am a therapist for a lot of people. I am an engineer. A good one, but one who doesn’t want to pursue
this field. I am a fast learner and a fast talker. I am quite often hard to
follow. My ideas are rushing through my mouth to get out and make themselves noticed.
I am a thinker. Correction. We all know, I am an over thinker. I am motherly
with my friends and I am empathetic. I am a worrier who can understand the
biggest asshole there is.
I am happy. I am mad. I am sad. I am angry. I am ecstatic. I
am melancholic. I am moody. And everything at once. I am hungry. I am thirsty. I
am satisfied. I am picky. I am unfulfilled. I am peaceful. I am an introvert. I
am talkative. I am not good at socializing. I am friendly. I am evil. I am
mean. I am helpful. I am a girlfriend. And I am a one night stand. I am that
girl in the club who will go home with you. I am that girl in the bar whom you
cannot pick up. I am flirty. I am intelligent. I am scared. I am complex. I am
difficult. But I am a dreamy wife. For that person who’ll be able to see me as
a whole with my flaws and my qualities. I am fucking great. And I am the
absolute worst.
I am giving. I am driven. I am dreamy. I am an over
achiever. I am my own worst enemy and critique. I am my own therapist. I am a
singer. I am a writer. I am an artist. But I cannot draw even if my life would
depend on it. I am the sum of my mistakes, my wrongs, my failures. I am the sum
of my awards, my praises, my gains. I am the sum of every single thought that I
had and I will have. I am soulful. I am decent. I am educated. I am strong. I’ll
never back away from pain. I am heartless. I am a laughter and a tear, all in
one. I am a girl, a woman and a lady. I don’t have any vices, but I’m vicious. I
am your worst nightmare. I am your strongest desire. I am complex. I am deep. You
could fall, and never go back. You could look, but couldn’t see me. I am transparent.
I am honest. I am straightforward. I am shy. I am a drop of water. I am a freaking
ocean.
I am an idea. I am my hopes and dreams and fears. I am a
soul full of ideas. I am my future, my past, but most of all, my present. Who the
fuck am i?
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