The hardest part isn’t finding what we need to be– it’s being content with who we are — lyrics.
Perhaps that’s just it. That’s what I got to do. Be content. With who I am. Instead of always pushing to be someone else maybe I should just accept who I am. What am I then?
Am I a victim? Am I a person who had their options taken from them? Am I a chamber of strength? Just who am I exactly? And what would I push to be if I could test myself to be the person I want to be.
Someone I would want to be is probably skinner, prettier, and smarter. Someone I am is someone a little too black and white a little too tarnished, and someone a little skeptical — or so I think.
Sean use to have this way of describing me, and it made me happy to be the person I was. He told me, *reminiscent pause* he told me I made him alive. Made him see the happiness in life. The colors behind the cruel black and white. The happiness in the steps of humanity. He told me I was something he’d never forget. He told me I changed him for the better and turned him into the best man he’s ever been. Half the time I thought he was feeding me bullshit, but the other half, made me really think what it felt like to be alive.
Who am I really? My name is simple and short. Three letters defined by the end. My heritage defined by the rest of my name. My face filled with lines and cheeks full from smiling (when I smile). My eyes sometimes heavy with the truth, are shades of different colors. My body is tense and rigid at times, but hold me a while longer and you’ll feel my muscles relax and my head fall into yours. Hell maybe I’ll find that soft spot in the back of your neck with my finger. Perhaps I am a clam, maybe I need someone alittle stronger (in many ways) to pry open my soul and stick around.
I’ll think a little harder on who I am and we’ll see maybe my life is waiting on an epiphany.