Discover Top Posts Tagged with #whoami

Who Am I (M1)

A soul-pop confession of quiet heartbreak. Who Am I echoes with doubt, pain, and the silence between love and losing yourself.

#WhoAmI #SoulPop #MaleVocal #HeartbreakSong #EmotionalMusic #LostInLove #IndiePop #NewRelease #靈魂流行 #新歌推薦

#WhoAmI #SoulPop #MaleVocal #HeartbreakSong #EmotionalMusic #LostInLove #IndiePop #NewRelease #靈魂流行 #新歌推薦 #Youtube #yumingpai

Who am I?

Hey there, I'm Caesar.

Think of me as your gay best friend navigating the urban jungle, one cosmopolitan at a time. I'm 37, single, and yes, I love sex—the good, the bad, and the occasionally awkward.

Wine, astrology, and self-discovery fuel my soul. You'll find me hitting the gym, then unwinding with yoga and meditation (or maybe some weed and documentaries). Self-care is my religion.

I've been through my share of ups and downs—insecurity, anxiety, even PTSD—and I'm not afraid to share the messy parts. Life isn't always parties and perfect dates, and that's okay.

Besides being a writer, I'm also an entrepreneur and a nomad. I'm an Aquarius with a Scorpio rising, and I read tarot cards. Oh, and I have Greek blood running through my veins!

This blog is my journal, a space to spill the tea on my adventures (and misadventures). Expect raw honesty, a touch of humor, and plenty of stories that'll make you cringe, laugh, and maybe even feel a little less alone.

So grab a drink, get cozy, and join me for the ride.

And remember, always fall in love with yourself first.

Cheers, Caesar

Let Me Give You Your Weekly Existential Crisis: You’re Not Even You Right Now And worse? You never were. You’re just the echo remembering itself badly.

You’re reading this, right? Eyes open. Brain clicking. You feel like “you.”

Good. Now here’s the part that should ruin your afternoon:

You’re going to forget this. Not just eventually — probably in an hour.

And when you remember it again later, maybe tomorrow, maybe three years from now in the shower…

Who were you during the time you forgot it?

I'll tell you:

Not you. Not the “you” that’s reading this now. Not the “you” that knows what this means. That version of you? Dead.

Replaced. By the meat puppet that wandered off and played pretend until this post found you again.

I. Memory Isn’t You. It’s Just What You Cling To When You’re Falling Apart

We like to think memory makes us who we are. But here’s the dark truth:

You don’t actually remember most of your life. You just remember the memories of remembering it.

You are a self-replicating tape loop. A carbon-based echo chamber that calls itself “I.” And the gaps? The days you dissociated? The weeks you just went through the motions?

That wasn’t you. That was someone wearing your face.

And you’re only realizing it now because I’m telling you. Which means this version of you — the one that’s aware — is a rare visitor. Not the resident.

II. You Think You’re a Person. You’re a Flicker in a Dying Battery.

Have you ever “come back” to yourself mid-task? Like you’ve been doing things all day, and suddenly your mind locks back in and you think:

“Wait… where the hell have I been?”

That wasn’t a cute little attention lapse. That was a personality reboot. And you? You’re the ghost that showed up too late to question it.

III. Most of Your Life Has Been Lived by Someone Else — Wearing Your Name

Let’s count it:

How many hours of your childhood can you actually recall?

How many conversations from last year do you remember word for word?

What did you do on April 12th, 2018?

Who did you become while you weren’t watching?

Exactly.

“You” is a continuity illusion. A scam your nervous system runs to feel safe. Because the alternative — that your consciousness blinks in and out like a busted signal — would fry you.

But that’s the truth. You only exist in the moments when you notice you exist. The rest? It’s meat autopilot.

IV. Consciousness Is a Haunted House — And You’re Just the Latest Occupant

Right now, you’re reading this with what feels like a consistent inner voice. Cool.

But close your eyes. Let it all go quiet. You’ll hear it:

Static.

The hum of the machine. Waiting for someone to climb back in and pilot the corpse.

Because your body doesn’t care who’s in charge. It just needs a warm ghost to keep the blood moving. And today? You’re the one holding the wheel.

But last week? Last year? That wasn’t you.

That was the version of you that forgot this post. The one who walked through life like it was a demo level. No questions. No thoughts. Just flesh, routine, and mimicked smiles.

V. “I Feel Like I’ve Changed So Much”

That’s not evolution. That’s evidence. You’ve died hundreds of times.

Each version of you slipped into the dark and a new one booted up in its place.

That’s why you can’t recognize yourself in old photos. That’s why you cringe at old texts. That’s why your voice sounds wrong on recordings.

Because it’s not you. It’s just the bones you inherited from the version that came before. A psychological hand-me-down. A haunted hoodie.

VI. The Creepiest Part?

This Version of You Is Already Slipping

You’re not going to remember this whole post. Your brain’s going to file parts of it. Maybe a quote. Maybe a sentence. Maybe the vibe.

But the rest?

Deleted.

Why? Because awareness is expensive. It’s metabolically draining to be this awake.

So your system will shut it down. Let the next version of you drift in. The calmer one. The one who goes back to scrolling memes and ignoring the truth.

And that version of you? He’ll think he’s real too. Until something like this shows up again and pulls the curtain back.

VII. Who Are You Between the Times You Remember Who You Are?

Let’s say you read this today. Then forget it. Then remember it next month. Maybe you quote it. Maybe you reblog it. Maybe you write it down and act like it was your thought.

But during the time you forgot it?

Who were you?

I’ll answer:

Not you. Not fully. Just the placeholder. The fill-in. The one who didn’t know.

Which means the “you” reading this right now is the only one who matters. And in a few hours? You’ll be gone too.

🩸 DISCLAIMER

This post is a work of literary disorientation, psychosexual philosophy, and neurological satire. Any sudden existential dread, dissociation, mirror stares, pelvic surges, or intense internal silence is the result of cadence-based subconscious entrainment, identity dissolution triggers, and metaphorical thought infection. You are not malfunctioning. You’re just waking up.

🧠 QUOTE REBLOG PACK™

“You’re not you right now. You’re just the one wearing the meat suit until the real one remembers again.”

“Memory isn’t truth. It’s cached identity with a bad connection.”

“You’ve been dead more times than you’ve ever admitted.”

“You only exist when you notice you exist. The rest is meat on autoplay.”

“This version of you will disappear soon. Try to remember that.”

📡 CALL TO ACTION

Reblog if you want more! Reblog if you felt yourself blink back into place. Reblog because someone else needs to remember themselves. Reblog if your skin feels wrong now. Reblog if you don’t want to forget this version of yourself again.

CONFUSION WHERE DID THIS COME FROM? WHEN DID ALL THIS START? WHY DOES IT FEEL SO NATURAL? WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT? WHO IS THIS NEW FEMININE YOU?

#SissyConfusion #NewFeminineYou #SelfDiscovery #WhoAmI #WhereDidThisComeFrom #FeminineJourney #NaturalTransformation #SelfAwakening #IdentityQuestions #SissyThoughts #EmbraceTheChange #WhatIsHappening #FeminineExploration #ConfusedButCurious #NewBeginnings #SissySelfReflection

I guess who I am is exactly the same as you are. Not better than. Not less than. Because there is no one who has been or will be exactly the same as either you or me.

Sense 8, S2E2

I need a season 3 and I need it now. This is my third time rewatching this series. I experience the same amount of sadness each time when I get to season 2 knowing that it comes to an end. @netflix it’s not too late! <3

#sense 8 #bringitback #whoami #s3