Who I am

When I still believed in god, I used to lie in my bed at night and pray for him to change me. I’d pray for him to make me a better person, prettier, charming and graceful. I used to read the ugly duckling and hope against hope that one day it would be my turn to be a swan.

I spent so many years despising myself. Hating who I was, how I acted, how I looked. I hated that I was shy, but never realised that all the hate I had towards myself made me shy.

I changed. Slowly, I did. I stopped praying, stopped hoping and decided to face myself. I am who I am. I’ll never be graceful, I’m a born klutz. I've fallen more times on my ass than Malta has failed at the Eurovision. I’m not a model, I’m not a princess. I’m me.

I no longer resent myself for who I am. I no longer wake up cursing the person I am. I don’t hate the person I am anymore. I changed.  I just don’t know who I am anymore.

Sometimes I get these out of body experiences as I see myself interacting with people. It’s like I’m not used to this new person. To this changed, hopefully improved person.

And like all other humans I find the need to try and place myself in a category. Who I am? Where do I fit? It’s silly isn't it? When we all know how complicated a person is, how many layers they have, how can you simplify them so as to fit into a box? How can you take something multidimensional and place it into one dimension and still have the same person.

I don’t know who I am. I don’t know in which category I fall in. I just know, I don’t mind who I am anymore.