Tag Archives: meditation

Who am I, after all ?

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A question I’ve had to answer for my psychology class and one that I probably shouldn’t answer myself. I don’t know who I am, not really, not yet. 

I am maybe a sum. The sum of all things I love and hate, the sum of the songs I find myself into, of the books I’ve worshipped and the paintings that moved me to tears. A sum of all the people I’ve ever met and whose traits I’ve tried to borrow, or, quite on the contrary, I’ve been mocking merciless. A sum of all the friends I’ve chosen and who stayed, but also the sum of my parents. Yes, I am mostly the sum of my parents: shy, but always determined in my actions, as dreamy as persevering, rational yet always wishful. I am a sum of the decisions I keep on taking, ever since I’ve had the power to choose and up until this day, of the opportunities I’ve had and of my luck, a sum of my destiny’s favours. A sum of the wishes that drive me, of my dreams and of my ambition, which I need to keep on growing. None of all these defines me more or less than the other. I am one ordinary human, but unique in my own way. Unique, just like everyone else.

Maybe I am a huge contradiction. A contradiction between the stars, to which I will always aspire and the earth that I am bound to. Between the optimism that characterises me and the pessimism that takes me by surprise sometimes, between the wish to fast-forward my life and catch up on all the good that I hope to find in the future and the lingering nostalgia of past memories. An infinite contradiction  between right and left, that doesn’t define only me, but rather all of us: between my mind, my thoughts, that scream at me to make sense of what I feel and my spirit, who whispers softly to stop analysing life; and who usually whispers louder than any scream.

The only thing that I am sure of is that I am always-changing: a mirror’s reflection for the strangers, who pass me by on the sidewalk; a quiet girl for those, who watch me from afar, with no intention to befriend me; a loving mother to my little puppy; the most special, beautiful and intelligent daughter they could’ve wished for to my parents; a quirky girl yet always ready to sacrifice herself for her friends. Who am I to me? I am all this girls, all these adjectives, all these words put together and bound with the thoughts that flow each second through my mind, never stopping.

I am someone. But I still need a little more time to define who this someone really is. I just need a lifetime. 

19

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When I turned 18 it felt like a conquest.

I could finally get a driver licence – which I haven’t got until now. I could finally drink legally – which I had already done, but never legally. I could enter that cool club without a fake I.D. – which I never got asked for, curiously, after I turned 18. I could leave the country without having to ask for permission, a could rebel, I could even end up in jail – none of which I did, because I am by definition a nice person. But now I could. And that’s more important than anything, right? The only was in which I took advantage of my new status as an ‘adult’ ( but honestly, that really is just a term, because how the hell am I an adult when I still have phosphorescent constellations on my walls and a huge poster with Johnny Depp on my door, that will never come down ) was to get a tattoo done. Of course, I could have asked for my parents’ signatures, but now I didn’t have to. So, in a way, I took as much as I could from all those newly discovered perks. Oh, and I got a summer job – only for those over 18, okay? AND a really cool credit card, that got me to spend like a maniac. ( quick notice here: credit cards – really dangerous. Seems like you have tons of money and then you have to pay 3 euros for a snack at Paul and the waiter tells you you’re card is empty… )

When I’ll turn 20, it’ll be a change.

And it’s there, you know, it’s visible. You change the prefix. You are officially cool. You are the new generation. Or, at least that’s how I imagine it. Twenty is nice. It’s a milestone, it has a nice ring to it. You’re definitely not a child anymore, at 20, but you can still get your mom to help you out, because you’re a newbie to the real world.

But today I turned 19.

It’s such a weird age, if you ask me. I feel like I haven’t even got an age at all. Actually, I feel like those depressed middle-aged women, because now I am the oldest teenager – not cool enough to wander with teenagers ( not that I would ever want to relieve that experience ever again ) and not old enough to be taken seriously by adults. I don’t even know what to do with my age. I can enjoy all the perks of 18, but they got a little dust on them now, because time already passed and I have been able to be all grown up for a year now. Plus, there are no songs for this age ( feel free to contradict me and suggest a really cool playlist, but the point is, there are no super-known songs for this age) because, probably, even the always imagining lyricists have nothing to say about it. By all means, let’s just all wait for that change of prefix, or be nostalgic about the freshness of adulthood.

However you see it, 19 is nothing but a longer while to reach your feared and hopeful twenties.

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The Stars Dealer

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I have always been fascinated with stars. I can’t really explain the reason behind it, or this enormous feeling I get when I look up at the night sky. I suppose it’s all very typical for the human being to be fascinated with all that is beyond our knowledge, what is beyond our world and the Universe is itself one big question.

I’ve read about people that feel small looking at the stars above them. That feel like a very tiny bit of this whole wide infinity. People that realize how little they matter. How unimportant their lives go by, like the blink of an eye. I don’t.

Looking up at those shining bits of light, I feel so important. I look up and lose that sense of loneliness, because for a few moments, I feel like time stops, just for me to give time to admire such vast beauty. So, I decided to steal some constellations and store them in my bedroom. Remember those phosphorescent stars you had as a child, glued to the ceiling, to keep nightmares away? I bought a set of those 🙂 Now I have my own private night sky, shining above my head every night.

And honestly it’s the best thing there is.