Who Am I? The Question That Won’t Leave Me Alone
Some questions in life haunt us softly, following us throughout our lives, plaguing us regardless of the answer we provide.
‘Who am I?’ is a common one of them.
Whether I’m eating, studying, or even sleeping, this question arises, awaiting a careful response from my conscious. I begin answering with the things I know, the things I’m convinced are true.
My name is Blythe; I am 16 years old. I'm a student, sister, and friend.
But do these labels define me? Or just describe me? They don't answer the haunting question, only steer around it. While yes, these labels hold truth, they aren't who I am, nor who I wish to become.
When I was a child, I had a vast number of aspirations for myself.
Become a popstar, meet Belle, go to the M&M factory, and own 100 American girl dolls.
However, reading these now, I realize that they are no longer the aspirations I carry with me. They are the only ones I’ve long since retired.
I'll never be a pop star, I'm a lousy singer.
I met Belle, but only the version with a pretty wig and yellow dress; the real belle is a figure of imagination I'll never stand before.
I did get to go to the M&M Factory. I don't remember it.
I tallied up 13, which is good if you ask me.
Maybe ‘who I am’ is always a work in progress.
Maybe no answer will stand the test of time.
The only real things I know about myself are what others have told me. For some reason, they’re the only descriptions of myself my brain has managed to hold on to—both my insecurities and strengths.
Yet, the only times I've felt like myself are times in my own comfort.
Like doing my makeup, watching my favorite show, and listening to my favorite playlist.
But when I begin to answer this question, I realize, no matter how hard I try to fight it, I am not one being.
I am a reflection of everyone I’ve ever met, loved, or even hated.
I've collected a piece of everyone I've ever known. Whether it's their mannerisms, something I say often, or my hobbies. All I really feel is like a million people battling over one collective consciousness.
My heart is in everyone I’ve met, and everyone I’ve met has a heart in me. I am a figure of memories, love, hate, intelligence, embarrassment, fear, confidence, anxiety…..the list never ends.
While I am limited in how far I can go with this, I maybe know how to start.
What's my favorite food, color, or movie? What do I stand for? What do I love? What am I passionate about? What do I like to do?
These are questions I can answer, some with hesitation, but with enough collective thought, I can narrow down a half-decent answer.
As Socrates once spoke:
“Know Thyself.”
We as individuals, must learn to develop self-awareness, including knowing our strengths, weaknesses, limitations, and motivations. Socrates believed that holding knowledge in these values is key to living a meaningful and virtuous life.
But is this identity fluid, or fixed?
While it would be nice to take pen to paper, and tell you, who I am, I will never have a definite answer. It’s beyond anything my brain could comprehend. I’ll never retain my purpose on this earth, nor my value.
However, this question isn't one that was intended to be answered.
I don't need to have the answer in order to thrive. I can live this unknown truth through friendships, passions, writing, drawing, and seizing every opportunity life presents to me.
Instead of pondering on this unattainable question, ask yourself,
Who are you now? And who are you becoming?
So maybe the question “Who am I?” isn’t a riddle to solve—
Maybe it’s a rhythm to live by.
Not a final answer, but a constant unfolding.
Not something to pin down, but something to become.
And in that becoming, I’m learning that I don’t need to know myself completely to be myself fully.
So I’ll keep living. I’ll keep creating. I’ll keep choosing.
Piece by piece. Step by step.
Becoming.
Because maybe that’s the most honest answer I can give right now:
I am becoming.
And you are too.
By Blythe, with love.
