If there is one thing you can tell from my blog, it’s that I’ve been struggling with answering this question for a while, long long before starting this blog.
I try to figure it out, like when I was sure I would be into fishing and hiking and hunting, and went out and got a camo backpack and hat and a bunch of fishing stuff. When I was sure I was wiccan and got all the trappings thereof and a bunch of books I never read. When I wanted to embrace my femanine side and decked out my room in a pale seafoam green color, with white gossamer around my bed and twinkling lights, and now I hate it. I never turn those lights on, and the gossamer is just obnoxious.
Nothing about me stays the same, except a few small things that have been with me since the beginning: a love of fantasy and magic, love of ancient history and civilizations, love of mythical creatures like dragons and unicorns, love of horses, dogs, and animals, a love of the beauty of nature (even if I prefer to be inside seeing it through a window), love of D&D, role-playing and the idea of taking on an entirely different persona. Of creating characters and worlds for them to live in.
I’m constantly trying to reinvent myself, trying to be the person I want to be (that day, that week, that month). I’m not wiccan, I’m not goth, I’m not outdoorsy, I’m not an artist, I’m not a writer, I’m not a office worker. I don’t know who I am, I don’t know what I am, and I don’t know where to start.
You’d think it would be simple. Easy questions to answer. What do you like? I like macaroni and cheese. I like unicorns. I like D&D. Is that who I am?
Am I just being foolish for all this confusion? Am I just making things more complicated than they really are? And if that is the case, how do I simplify them? How do I know who I am? Who I want to be? What I want to do?
Every since yesterday I’ve been in a semi-constant state of daydreaming. I’ve been trying to imagine what my life can be. For once my daydreams aren’t insane fantasies where I have wings or super powers, or find myself as a werewolf in the world where Bitten takes place. No, instead these fantasies have been completely possible future lives. I’ve tried to picture myself as a man. What would my name be, what would I look like, could I picture myself with a girlfriend? Boyfriend? What would my tiny house look like? I imagined I’d built it, parked it deep in the woods, on a plot of land big enough for a horse.
But things in my mind don’t mesh. Could I be a guy and still like unicorns? Could purple be my favorite color? Could I still love horses? Could I still like flowers, and sparkly things?
I’m not a writer if I don’t write. I’m not an artist if I don’t make art. I’m not anything if I don’t start being something. But identity seems to come so easily to others. No one I know struggles so hard to know who they are. Why is it so hard for me?