Some days I wake up to the world shining through my transparent white curtains. I toss to the other side and seek refuge under my body pillow.
Five more minutes, please.
It’s almost like gravity urges me to stay put as time goes on – my body grows heavier with every passing second.
My phone vibrates as if the world is nudging me to drag my body out of bed and into my outfit for the day. It begins to settle within this morning silence – the estranged feeling of complete realization; some days, I don’t know who I am.
I get so lost within to-do lists and Uber Eats orders that this realization seems to be almost too much within the first moments of my day. It’s almost like I’ve become accustomed to resisting solitude.
I once had a boyfriend who hated how indecisive I was. We would wander through the mall, and I’d spend countless hours looking for the perfect article of clothing, just to leave it. On certain nights, I’d vulnerably tell him how sure I was about my future, and then the next day, he’d be consoling my insecurity of what I wanted to commit to in life. It began to feel like a constant game of catch—a back and forth motion.
I never felt happy or comfortable sitting in one place for too long, and I could never solidify who I was and what I stood for because in a world with so many points of view and options, how could I make up my mind? I never know 100% who I am; I’m not even 70% sure.
The truth is, I don’t know who I am. I mean, I do, but it constantly changes.
I’m not one size fits all; I’m a coloring book filled with half-colored pages.
I love listening to people’s stories and grabbing bits and pieces to fill the filing cabinet that is my brain. There are so many places to visit and experiences to experience that knowing who you are becomes almost impossible. Sure, maybe others decide to stick with passed-down beliefs and just know it fits into their life. I, however, choose to leave some space for the person I have yet to be and the ideas I have yet to solidify.
So, I don’t know who I am in the grand scheme of things. But in not knowing who I am, I know that I am consistently growing and changing; that is a refreshing feeling because I wake up greeting a new version of myself with new tastes. Maybe that’s why I wake up greeting that estranged feeling.
Some days I don’t know who I am, but some days I’m too busy growing to know.