journey
Wise man said, to travel is to exist, so I did. I did to the best of my ability to exist. Sometimes I was myself; sometimes I was aspired to be someone else cooler and more beautiful than myself. I had been an uncountable version of what I called ‘myself’, whether it’d be authentic or fake.
Life is whatever we make it. The traveler is the journey. What we see is not what we see but who we are – Fernando Pessoa
But who are we? Who am I? Have I come to find myself? And what can one do to come to fully find oneself? There must be something so beautiful, so profound, which attracts me to the subject of becoming ‘who I am’; that I felt so compelled to write about it this very moment. There’s nothing more liberating than to be so comfortable in your own skin, that you’d never have to have any desire to be anything else or anyone else. There’s only you, in your own spotlight.
I want it. I want it bad. To find myself. To become who I truly am.
Every fiber of my being will scream my name, every edges that are not a part of me will be curved to fit the true me, and everything I say and do will reflect my naked personality.
Oscar Wilde said ‘be yourself’, as if it was that easy to be yourself. To be oneself is not a process that will take a day or a month to be finished. I kind of have a hunch that it will be a lifelong journey, but I really hope I am wrong. I want me, this traveler, on a wonderful, long trip across Europe on a train with big windows having croissants and jam breakfast while enjoying the greeneries and the sunrise.
But for now, I think the answer lies in not wanting to become anything, or being on any journey, and let the universe directs my path, into becoming who I am.
