I’ve Lost My Best Self

More accurately, I don’t know if best exists. I want to believe it’s there, web-slinging through the night, serving vigilante justice in the unscrupulous recesses of my being. But, I may just be tripping on the residue of adolescent ideations and drug induced psychosis.

Here are the selves that I’ve seen fumbling around in the darkened nooks and crannies of my awareness.

A contemplative-self that thrives on trauma and a worker-self that thrives on avoiding said trauma.

A lover-self that is faithful in the human spirit and a philosopher-self that question love.

A believer-, skeptic, and nihilist-self that debate the existence of self in the everyday cluster fuck of contemplating, working, loving, philosophizing, ect.-ing.

I know there are threads of faith and doubt, confidence and insecurity, wisdom and ignorance, beauty and beast woven through my webbing of thoughts, emotions, actions, and beliefs. And, I know that self is never fixed nor is it limited to the extent of my understanding.

But, is any one — creativity, love, faith or lack there of — best?

Best is a community of selves, unique emotions, ideas, beliefs, and convictions, that live in harmony and contribute equal amounts of identity to the everyday machinations of me.

Self can only grow, adapt, and thrive to be best through introspection and exposure to a larger universe. Introspection — observing, thinking, creating— helps me understand self and a larger universe — new people, places, things, and ideas — helps me find best self.

The material world or the internalization of another’s self is nemesis, the Doctor Octopus, Green Goblin, Sandman, Venom, Rhino, Kingpin, or whomever, to our Spidey self. Funny, more not funny, is the fact that the “stuff” is what we often desire most. Or, that’s what the world tells us to desire so that’s how we measure self.

My best self was never lost. It was simply hiding beneath the false notion that certain parts of me where better or worse than others.

That one day’s creative deficit was less then best when in fact faith and love would carry me through.

I would usually end with a relevant quote, but all this abstraction is making my brain hurt so here are a few that may or may not mean something to your interpretation of this ramble.


Anyways, my best self was never lost. I just wasn’t looking in the right places.

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