Who am I?
It is such a mainstream and common question. We hear it daily from different people around. Yet, have we ever asked this of ourselves.
Who am I?
Am I a writer?
Is it what my heart wants to do?
We never ask these questions because we have defined them to be on the philosophical level and we like to say that we live in the real world.
We have created a difference between the two.
I watch movies and seasons and read loads of novels. There comes certain amount of satisfaction from watching those movies. We are trying to look for people who goes through what we are going through and that is why we empathies and see those movies.
I thought I knew who I was. I have been living in this delusion for so long. I knew who I was until one say I realized that wrong. I have no idea who I am.
I am sherlocked.
I miss Derek.
I am somewhat like Mr.Darcy.
Why am I like these people a bit.
Because I admire them, deeply, deliriously, I admire them and want to be like them.
And in this quest I stopped looking for Who I am.
I can never ask my parents these questions nor my friends because we will never meet on the same thought level in these questions.
So, I turn towards the people in movies and season and ask them this questions and in their answer they deflect who they are. Someone I can resemble too.
Remember, I can’t be them.
Neither can you.
What are we doing with our lives if we do not who we are? Does our job not our ambition then? Because we would not know what our ambition would be?
Why do we live like this? Live in such ignorance.
Does it not depress you people that you do not know who you are?
It certainly does depress me.
Not knowing who I am? Not knowing the purpose to my existence makes me bersick.
And most importantly, why can’t we talk about such stuff. Because it takes us to a philosophical level. So what? We’d only be talking deep and the sort of stuff people talk when they are about to die.
On their death beds they realize that have in fact wasted their lives and wish they had time to do live on more of a philosophical level.
But we, never learn from them and want to have this experience of regret on out death beds when there is nothing more we can do.
I want to know who I am.
I think that is vital for me to know myself to be able to love myself and love the world out there. I believe it would help me make use of my full brain.
Maybe then I would be someone’s admiration and they’d find themselves through my course of experience or a little more possibility, if I fail to find myself than the next person with the same pursue, would not have to begin from the beginning rather he could start from where I left of and maybe he will finally accomplish in finding who he is.
I owe it to myself to at least try.
Or maybe it Is just that the adults have not yet figured it out, which is dreadful just as same. Living your whole lives not knowing who you are.
I can’t think of a more failed life.