I tend to want to define myself whenever I look into the mirror. Most times, all I see are two sides. One is lifeless and not deceptive; a blank surface of whatever it is. The other has life; it breathes, it moves and it thinks. It is this side that questions my existence. Who am I? What is my purpose? What is the meaning of life?
“Oh, shit! He’s doing it again, someone wake him up,” Jack’s scream pierces the atmosphere and it is accompanied by a multitude of thoughtful sleeping form. I open one sleep befuddled eyes and take a squint at them all before settling back to continue my questioning. I am the definition of creep. At least that’s what they all say. The ones that think creep is rather too low toned prefer to use the word freak. I have been called so many names in my life that sometimes I find it hard to remember my own name.
“Just who am I? What am I? Where did I come from and why?” These are the questions that conitnue to plague me.
“Wake him up someone!” Jack’s insistent voice cuts through my subconscious again, disorganizing my train of thoughts. I think I was close there, I almost had answers Arrrgh!. I try and ignore the voice and continue. Just who am I? It’s a duality question that peeks into both my existence and personality. To someone else, the time period of repetitive questioning would begin to seem rhetorical or early signs of dementia but for me, with every time I ask myself the question, I seem closer to finding the perfect answer, each time closer than before. Very much similar to a tree overladen with fruits and in desperate need of pruning. I can’t find a perfect answer because there is nothing like perfection. Perfection is for the gods and and of the many heroes we hear tales of their legendary exploits.
But I have a clue to what I am. To who I am. I am a lonely soul, searching tirelessly for companionship and comfort. I am a thirsty being, hunting furiously for the pleasures of this world. I am a cowardly fellow who gains aphrodisiac pleasures from his thoughts and imaginations than reality. I am just a blip on a map amongst billions of other blips struggling to make it and rise to stardom. I am a twisted soul who pushes emotions away in a frantic bid to escape being human yet long for them after they are gone in order to fill up the void in my chest. An epitome of confusion But through it all, I have come to realize that that epitome of confusion, that barely significant blip on the radar, that twisted soul, that cowardly fellow, that thirsty being and lonely soul is me.
“Waaaaaaake up dammit!” Jack finally manages to rouse me from my slumber.
“Urghhh!” I groan as I gradually allow myself to come awake, they were all staring at me like I was some new born alien they were seeing for the first time. Trying to hide my smile, I stand up and gently brush my clothes, turned a reassuring smile on them all and walked out of the room. As I walk through the doorway, I imagine myself pausing briefly at the doorway, turning back to face them, to face the world, to face them with a huge grin and say, “I am me and I am awesome.” But I don’t do that. Instead I walk away, shoulders slumped, misplaced steps, countenance vague, a white blank stare on my dreamy eyes and for the umpteenth time, continuing in my quest to find the answer to my question – who am I?
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