Identity

A short, biographical story.

   Who are you? A subjective question of self worth that every person will strive to answer some time in their life. Some might answer it to the best of their ability and be satisfied, others might never quite reach their goal. Depending on how one looks upon such a staggering inquiry, it may be of less difficulty to generalize the entire population of what we know as human beings and derive an answer from the research. This, however, is not the intent. An individual will always maintain some sort of inner mannerism that cannot be stolen by said individual's collective group. If the person has a collective group, that is. This specimen, however, is lost in her source material is her life, her experiences. She does not yet understand that her personal answer isn't as linear as she makes it out to be. The wall of self consciousness doesn't aid in anything either. However, the final factor, intelligence, could be just as self destructive as her self consciousness or be her savior.

   I only started worrying about myself after I met her. She calls me an enigma. At first I was proud that someone as intelligent as her couldn't decode me. However, after multiple attempts at discovering her true thoughts on me, I came up empty. She may truly not comprehend what makes me who I am, or doesn't care enough to contemplate. I don't know what scares me more.

Even what I'm doing now, writing this down, isn't what I normally do. It's what she does. I have a feeling that I'm mimicking someone else's personal method of cathartic release. The irony of this isn't lost on me. Even the previous statement is just a quote I picked up. Is all of this making my identity weak? Am I just a collection of my experiences and knowledge, harnessed to control exactly what I put out to show the world? This may seem like the very definition of some sort of an identity, but it feels so wrong. I used to be so sure of myself when it came to matters like this. All of my friends were smarter than the average suburban kids and I was above even that. After we split up and intermingled into subgroups that suited us better in high school, I joined a team that consists primarily of intellect. Though I know that it's better to challenge myself, my decisions have left me conflicted. It helps me to list the things that I know. I know without any doubt that I don't want tot return to my old friends, though I also know that I could slither my way into another's acceptance.

   I have often thought of myself as a middle character, never fully steering onto a direct side on any spectrum. The only exception was the subject of my knowledge. This hasn't changed as much as I thought it had, reflecting back on it. I'm still aware that I fall more smoothly into the 'elite' category if ranking one's ability to think critically and be 'smart'. I realize that I'm very judgmental; an aspect of myself that I'm fine with. It gives me the illusion that I have a solid foundation to base my personality on, though she now has caused it to crack. I don't know if there was anything there to begin with now.

   The only definite character trait that she's awarded me with is being cold and unfeeling. Perhaps she's right, to some extent. In general, I have little pity for even those close to me. This impacted her views on me as I refused to pity her when she told of her personal woes. Honestly, I just think people are stupid.

I can't say that I dislike being told that I have no heart. It makes me feel like I'm here, both in a pretentious way and a superficial kind of way. It can mean that one is strong, stoic, if they don't bend easily in the palms of another. It makes me feel grounded, especially in a world that tells me I'm a chameleon. It's a useful skill to be able to adapt. The problem is that I feel like I do it too much. I alter my personality, sometimes drastically, depending on who is in my company. I do this while being fully aware of it. It's because of my changing colors that I'm on good terms with everyone I meet, never in the red zone.

  There has never been a time where I've felt the anger of another on me. She, on the other hand, has. Many have. Many would be jealous of my ability, I understand this. Somewhere along the path of pleasantness, I believe I'm losing myself, if there is even a person there to be lost. The fact that I'm writing my thoughts is a sign of my existence, correct?

 This all stems back to when I changed my choice of friends. My previous ones never questioned my existence, as my new ones do unconsciously. At least in my opinion. My old friends have often come offering new opportunities to mingle again, all on a silver platter. Each and every time I have declined. I can't lose my new ones, even if they fill me with inner turmoil. They are making me stronger. It is they that have triggered me to do intellectual pursuits, such as even bothering to write down what I could scramble in my mind in hopes of solving the puzzle that I have created for myself. She didn't want me to feel conflicted. She needs me, even as just a number to add to her short list of friends. In a way, this makes me feel both useful and useless. I question everything around me, at first believing that I was just open-minded. This is still true in many respects. I like to think of myself as liberal, whatever that means.

   I don't have a problem with most extremes of most sorts. Drugs, sexual preference, world views. My mentality has always been somewhere along the lines of 'I don't think I care enough to engage'. I can't be bothered most of the time. I realize now that all I want is entertainment out of life, While I'm not even completely certain that I've ever felt true, undeniable hatred toward another person besides myself, I'm certain I've felt it towards boredom. I can't stand being bored. When I find its fists clenched around my neck, I clench back. The world is dull when I'm in the midst of boredom, and the world should never be dull. There's no excuse for it. Every waking moment is worth more than most of us who are awake realize.

   Though I can't stand for boredom, I've learned from it. I've learned that I love to learn. Yes, it gets me down when people around me flaunt their knowledge. I never said I was humble. I used to surprise people with my knowledge on random, off-topic facts. Those moments are something worth working towards, as I do now. It's not that I hate the current state that I'm in; I just think that I could do better.

   All in all, I can safely say that I'm intelligent. That mere fact that I can state something such as that

also means that I'm confident and self-aware. I know that I'm caught in the middle of the best time of my life; a slice of time that I will cherish and look back upon fondly, but will never wish to return to.

Author's Note

I would appreciate any thoughts!