Identity Crisis
It is Tuesday. Four days into a blistering April that promises to be hectic yet, and I’m already feeling slightly more than jaded. There’s so much work to do, so much to be accomplished, and still, I cannot seem to beat the inertia and get going. At that, I’m nursing a writer’s block…a serious one. I’ve been sitting in front of my laptop, meaning to complete that new project I’ve started some months back, but all that I’ve arrived to is this long stretch of whiteness that is frightening and soothing all at once…frightening because at the back of my head I know that my to-do list is fast accumulating up to a point where I would no longer be able to catch up but yet, soothing in a sense that the numbness of feeling naught at all saves me the constant pain that life brings.
It is blissfully comforting though I feel a little misplaced in life. As though suddenly, I find myself questioning: WHO AM I? Who am I really? And what is my purpose here? In my disorientation, I feel as though I’m not me…just another person looking into the windows of my world and seeing the things that are happening to me from another person’s point of view.
Who is that girl sitting by the daybed in the dead of the night, looking out the window to the flickering lights at the horizon as though they could provide her an answer to all the questions running in her head? She couldn’t sleep at night, this girl, after being awakened by that midnight call. It had to be somebody who had the key to her past, for after that she had been tossing and turning on her bed and now she’s just sitting there, her expression mirroring the blankness in her head. Who is that girl? And how did she arrive here to this place and time?
