To seek yourself is to have found yourself, for now. And now is all we have. The future and the past is happening now.
Who am I?
Oh, if only that was easy to say. I have days when I know the best who I am. I have days when I lost myself again.
I can tell people for hours and hours who I am not. But even that who knows If it’s the truth.
We are not mean to know who we are. I think this is a process, a life long process. Imagine in one day waking up and thinking “I know who I am”, and then life can ask “ are you out of your mind” life is not ending now. There is more pain, there is more experience, there are more relationships and people that will come and teach you something new, about yourself about others, about life itself.
Anyway.. why is that sometimes when I am alone I truly feel that I know what I am, and when I am with people is different?
What Am I?
Are the spoken words that comes from my mother’s ego, me?
Are my wounds that are screaming inside of my soul walls, scratching everything inside me, is that who I am?
Are the lies I said when my heart was too happy, is what I am?
Or is it my thoughts?
Or the broken hearts I have on my shoulders?
Or how many people I made sad or happy?
Who Am I?
Is the voice inside me, telling people what they want to hear?
Are the words inside of me I never told?
Are the butterflies that trying to take me somewhere where isn’t true?
Or maybe my mistakes, that I make over and over?
Who Am I?
Mommy.Student.Sister, daughter, friend.Coworker. Writer.
Are those things defining me as a person?
What AM I?
I am energy. I found myself. I found what I was looking for. I found ME. And I am in the whole universe.
I am afraid of people I love. I am afraid of being wrong over and over again. I am tired of being strong. I am tired to pretend that I have it all. I don’t. I am full of light. It’s burning inside everything. I am full of wounds, the one that never grew up. I am alone. I love it. I am sensitive, I give love easily and I get hurt. But I give it anyway because this is who I am. I love to be hugged, not by everyone, but the one I choose. I love pain. I love to laugh. This is me, the little girl from my childhood that was laughing, always even when people hurt her. I am still here. I get everything I truly need, not want. I have ink instead of blood. I am born to inhale words. But I always hurt myself by not writing every day. Because when I write my soul is touching the universe in one second what people live in years. I am hungry for books, peace, love, mountains, and silence. And I have something with the woods. Moon is the light that is reflecting on my nights. The starts are always fascinating to me. I’ve been broke, in and out. Currently working on my damaged heart. But somehow managing to get hurt again. When I am awake, my ego is sleeping next to me, he knows that he can’t bother me now. I need to love him and accept him that he will be always here to damage everything so I can fix and learn and cry.
There is a purpose for him in my life, maybe for me to notice him. Isn’t it true? Maybe my ego is so selfish because I never saw him, and now that I do, he wants me to take control of him.
I don’t believe in the idea of owning people’s hearts or having them working on my own happiness. But my ego always wants that.
I believe that kids are therapy for the heart. Their laugh. Oh, my Emily!
I love life!
Right now is all I have, and right now I found my peace.