You know how everyone you will ever meet has an identity: A name, an age, a job, a hobby, a nationality and sexuality. It’s almost as if you have these specific options that you have to choose from. You have to belong somewhere. You can either be a girl or a boy, a child or an elder, a doctor or a housemaid, gay or straight. Sure, some of these are rational and easy to decide, like the age for instance, but other questions are kind of tricky and hard to figure out, especially when you are young. Like for the love of God just tell me, how is someone supposed to know their sexuality at the age of 14? And how does school expect from that 14-year-old to decide whether they want to become a miserable author or a successful engineer?
At a very young age, without noticing it, we were asked to decide whether we wanted to do something hugely ambitious like change the world or just live quite an unassuming life where we’re simply content with who we are and what we have. It’s scary, because let’s face it, we didn’t even know what the hell was going on, we didn’t know who we were, we didn’t know what we wanted, and needless to say, who the hell cared? we were kids!
This is a subject that recently I have been struggling with. A lot. But all the thinking and asking and observing only got me to one conclusion:
I don’t want to choose who I am.
At least not yet!
If anything, I’m young, too young, and I don’t want my 80-year-old self to look back and cringe at the stupid decisions I made at the age of 18!
So, you’re probably asking yourself: who the hell are you then?
Well, I label myself as a tired member of society. I’m not an a math enthusiast nor a teen with great social abilities. I’m not good at singing and I’m not an actress with a pretty face. I’m a tired person.
Let me explain:
It comes down to the simplest day-to-day activities: getting out of bed, talking to people, walking, answering a phone call, grocery shopping..and so on and so forth. It really is the normal, simple things that generally frustrate me and make me tired and miserable. If you think making a phone call has nothing to do with tiredness and I’m just being over dramatic, you’d be surprised at the amount of breathing exercise I do before making or answering one, I’d freak out and practice what I have to say 7 times and even then I’d mess up. I’m socially inept. About school, most of my classes are located in the 2nd and 3rd floor, and everyday I’d have to make at least 5 to 6 flights of steps up and down in between classes, so when I finally make it to my class, it’d take me half way through the lesson to catch my breath in order focus on whatever the teacher was addressing to me. Ugh! Life is though. Shopping? Don’t even get me started on that shit, I’d go through the list of groceries my mum gave me over a thousand times to make sure I got everything, only to go home and find out, to my horror, that I had forgotten to bring toilet paper.
I could go on for hours and hours about this, but I think you get the point I’m trying to make.
And if you’re like me, and you sat there reading this post and being like “Yes, yes, oh my god, this is so true”, if you’re confused about your identity, I invite you to label yourself as a tired member of society. Trust me, it’s easier that way!