Parker, a coworker of mine, asked me a question about a month ago that has really bothered me. It has bothered me because I didn't know the answer. I still feel like I don't know the answer, and no matter how much I think about it and try to come up with something satisfactory, it doesn't seem right.
"Who are you?" Parker asked. The question stemmed from a long conversation about how to read people and what he could read about me, just from knowing me for a few weeks. He asked me again a couple of days ago, and I made something up like "I'm a college student, a sister, a daughter, and a friend." He seemed slightly more satisfied with that answer than with my previous "I don't know", and then told me to keep thinking.
Who am I, friends? Because honestly, I'm not sure who I am. Or maybe I know, but I'm too afraid to write it down or say it out loud. Once written down or spoken aloud, it becomes a responsibility. I don't know if I can live up to the expectations. I worry that there is so much to lose.
Perhaps it doesn't make any sense, and maybe putting it off isn't the proper way to go about it. Right now though, trying to come up with a definition of who I am is giving me a headache. Not to mention I think I'm allergic to the idea...if you get my meaning.