What it is like to be me.

What it is like to be me

(In this article, the “I” refers to a common person. And this post refers to how it feels to be one of the hoi polloi)

Somehow yet miraculously, till now, I have not given up listening to the voices in my head that time after time, lead me, unfailingly, onto the path of failure. Maybe, that’s who I am: stubborn.

I am an extraordinarily average person. I am, most of the time, not even sure who I really am. Now, what does the phrase, ‘not even sure who I really am’ actually mean? I am not sure. Maybe, that’s what I am: confused.

Always wanting more than what I presently possess, my greediness and hunger to achieve the infinity might not get me to the Heavens for my selfishness is often followed by the degradation of mankind. One value at a time. Maybe that’s what I aspire for: ignorance.

I am a true believer, from the bottom of my heart, I believe in the existence of the Holy. Perhaps only that. I claim I sometimes feel that He’s watching and guiding me albeit I can never be sure. How can He see and I can’t? Maybe that’s what I am always capable of: doubt.

I am compared. It’s the always-to-be-blamed human nature! I couldn't really get adjusted to it; now it hardly makes a difference but it matters somehow and when you are not on the better side, even more. Maybe that’s where I stand: Nowhere near the top.

Even if I practice it, I can never achieve the perfect perfection despite my mother’s belief: I was born flawless already. Mothers tend to be like that. Speaking of mothers, there is one thing that I can be proud of regardless of my disparaging behavior and that’s Love.

Love is there, back in my mind all the time. I give it and take it all day; even then it’s never enough. Love is in me, I am so full of it and it happens to me all the time. When I look at a pup, fight with my mother, steal my pal’s lunch, hug my kitty, cry for getting dumped,It’s there. I don’t understand why or for what reason it ensues. I still believe that it has something to do with my heart, forgetting that the brain exists.

I can add as many adjectives that define a part of me, good and bad, but only to this article. It is difficult for me to change. I can’t even shed the last five pounds. Oh heck! But that’s only after I lost the 30 before. I can be determined to do something; only when I want to, really.

I dream. Dreams that I, unfortunately have come to realize, can never be achieved, keep me from sleeping. It doesn't stop me from performing the act itself. It’s only that far I can go towards achieving it. I don’t become an under achiever if I flunk some tests. It’s mainly because I have EPDD: Extensive Pursuit in achieving Desire Disorder. I love to write, sing, dance, draw, innovate, read, study, research and what not. I can make something out of myself, really, really great only if I first struggle through the wormhole into which I have fallen with so many others who drag me back right into it and then and only then, I see myself happy. But somehow, in the end, my dreams find me.

It is not about what I do in life because all I want is to be happy when I die, which as a matter of fact is dependent upon what I make out of myself. But then there is death and oblivion. What matters then?

So, when I am who I want to be, when I am aware as what I am and I know what I am capable of, when I stand where I deserve to and when I do something I love, only and only then, I will be me.

It feels like me. And it is not that bad.