So I think I’ve found myself. Somewhere along the way, I managed to pick up bits and pieces of myself. Collect myself. Until I became a whole person. A full human being. I know what I stand for. I know my likes, my dislikes. And more often, I’m not afraid to expose those. I’m no longer worried about whether people will like or dislike me. I no longer feel the obligation to explain myself to anybody. Je m’en fous. Most of the time.
Is it possible to have ‘found yourself’ and yet not know where to place that self? To be a perfectly formed puzzle piece and still be looking for a place to fit in?
Most of the time I don’t know what I want. I tag along. Make impulsive decisions, while others I weigh. I weigh options. I think and rethink. Calculate, only to realise that there is no mathematical equation to life. Only to find that thinking just makes my brain tired, my body running behind it trying to catch up, without getting one step further. Seriously, though,
I don’t know.
I know exactly what I don’t want. And isn’t that just as important though? Setting boundaries. Saying no. Limiting yourself to prevent that one-ness that I’ve assembled over this short period of time from bleeding into space, returning to fragments. Figuring it all out on the basis of elimination.
I refuse to call this a quarter life crisis. Because, really, it is not a crisis. It is a full plate of food, preferably desserts, not knowing which to pick first. It’s thrilling, exciting, blood-tingling, fabulous. It’s freedom. It’s a luxury, a blessing to have that many possibilities for what’s next. So I’ve found myself. Now what? Now this. And that. And everything in between.