I chose non fiction memoir as my blog topic, because I think it is the closest thing to what is real. This is more of a reflective process than a documentation of life, but still it is the documentation of reality.
I think we really don’t get much time to think about who we are. I don’t.
I know I used to think a lot about who I was going to be. I had a lot of thoughts on that front, and they were on no uncertain terms. I had written my future, but I was mistaken. None of the things I thought would happen, actually happened. And so, who am I?
I thought I would be like this:
I had plans to wear lots of make up and do my hair.
I think maybe I thought I would have friends to do it with? I can’t remember.
Perhaps having friends to do it with is what you need. I think I thought I would just naturally start doing these wild things to my hair, and painting my face and change my clothes. I just never really thought about it in the present. It never occurred to me to buy new clothes or make up or do things to my hair.
So am I a wannabe? What am I? It’s very strange to realise that you don’t know who you are.
Where does this path begin? How does one find the special shoes or learn to do the special hair?
Do I need a Yoda or a mentor?
Or does one simply feel one’s way?
Do I need to find people who are like me?
Or should I drift alone through this journey?
And how do I even know if this is my path? I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know who I have become, or who I am supposed to be. I am lost. Adrift on this ocean of uncertainty.