I Am Not

We go through life thinking that we are someone.

This one type of human that you happen to be. We have this idea of who we apparently are, how we are like, what we like, and what we want to do in our lives. For most, it’s hard to pinpoint exactly what those criteria are, but this belief that we are this someone lingers around in our heads — deep enough to have it underscore the things we do everyday but also shallow enough to constantly probe our busy minds for an answer. Just that one answer.

Our own unique type of human is someone we put on everyday and something we all supposedly show off to everyone around.

“I am proud of who I am.”

So we keep ourselves in this mold of what we think we are, in this box with dimensions measured entirely by us with specifications written on its surface with our own handwriting with our own blood. We are so engrained with this notion of who we are — something so permanent and so trustworthy, something always there to remind you that you are you, something that never fails to give you some comfort when everything else is just a blur. This you is just always there.

But there is just one.

There is just one you — but life does not come in singulars. Life is a tornado of events thrown at you regardless of criteria or dimensions or specifications. Life does not care for who you are. Life is not just one. Life is many, wild, and unpredictable… Life is infinite.

So why shouldn’t you be?

Why do we choose to remain singular in a world of plurals? Why are we just one when we can be so much more? Why do we define ourselves when are simply undefined?

I am not one.

I can be one, but I can also be two. I can be two, but I can also be three. I can be three but I can also be free.

Free from the one I think I’m supposed to be.

Because if anything, I am not.

And you are not, either.

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