Damn, do you ever just suddenly realized that you've drifted so far away from important aspects of your identity? Like, they're things I still care about, but somewhere along the path of depression and mental disorder I just... stopped thinking about it. I dunno if it's that borderline 'unstable sense of self' or if I just avoided the world so hard that I avoided myself, but I'm honestly really pissed at myself right now. When people say "Who are you?" I've been answering, "I'm a writer", "I'm a fandom geek," "I'm disordered." Sometimes (again, identity confusion) I feel like I am something that I realize I never was, something that I cling to for a little while because I want to feel like I'm /something/, but I somehow forget that the real me Is. Still. There. I'm a biracial girl, and that means something to me. Black history means something to me, is a part of me, and I just forget? I'm a Jew, if only culturally. All through my childhood, I went to Hebrew School. I had a bat mitzvah. I was in Junior Choir. I was even a teacher's aide for two years. I love the holidays and traditions and songs and history and the feeling of unity and family. That means something to me. That means a LOT to me. And I forget? How? There's more, too. There's so much about me that I just disregard. I 'forget' that I love standing in the rain, arms out, head thrown back, feeling free. I 'forget' that I love the smell of new books and I could spend hours in the bookstore even if I didn't have any money because it just feels right. I 'forget' that I loved going out to tea at a fancy little place with my grandmother and cousin when we visit. I 'forget' that the color turquoise makes me smile and having fresh flowers in the house seems to take a lot of the bad energy away. I 'forget' so much because of my mental struggles, and it honestly makes me so angry.