Who am I, that’s what I ask myself every now and then, just to get back unreasonable answers with vague meanings.
Who am I? Who? Am? I?
I have no idea. And this is where the fun starts.
I am a consciousness that thinks, or at least someone that observes a mind thinking.
I’ve got a brain and a body. I’ve got me.
The last years I let myself free enough to go crazy. I give myself a white digital page and push me to open up, to express, to bring all the wealth I keep inside me on the surface. I like playing with the words and the meanings. I love the sound and sometimes the melody that I listen in my mind. I try to dance on its rhythm, to sing in a way that only words can be aligned with that melody. I open up, just like a flower, maybe a flower of the nights since I prefer to write late in the night, or, somebody can say, early in the morning. I give this freedom to myself to become childish again. To go out to the world, walk around it and observe it, to come to know it, learn by playing with it. Sometimes, the most beautiful of all, I manage somehow to write unfiltered. That’s when my subconscious kicks in. I don’t know how I do it. My writing is an experimental one. At first, I try to put the right words in the right order, I’m conscious and aware, I put effort, but at some point, after half an hour let’s say, I lose myself and I become something else. I’m becoming an other version of myself, purer and more honest. And by doing so, I give me the opportunity to express thoughts and feelings that otherwise I wouldn’t. I confess, that’s what I do. But it’s not a typical confession, it is a confession on the open notebooks that I keep here, on this blog. And on the other one, the more flourished, I express myself in greek.
Who am I? I still keep asking myself.
I have no idea. But I have a feeling. It’s a gut feeling that I believe I share with you.
Oh cosmos, I wish I knew who I am, because then, I’d understand me more.
I’m a being with consciousness, that’s for sure, somebody who can identify himself on the mirror. I’m not just an animal, I’m something more complex, something more advanced. One may say that we, humans, are natural machines, computers or so, that come with hardware and software. What are these? My body is the hardware, yeah. What is my software though? Is the way I’m thinking? Is it my belief system, all the values and the principles I follow? Got no idea.
I wonder a lot, both inside and outside me. I like investigating myself. I like observing people and the world. I love nature, yes, I’m so connected to it. Give me the green of the woods, give me the blue of the sky and sea and I’m yours. I’m a simple person, or persons. Yes, that’s a feeling that I have, I don’t feel just like one individual. I’m a guy, who can refuse that, but my mind takes so many paths at the same time, just like the cat of Schrodinger in this probabilistic universe.
I love losing myself in my writings because that’s when I find me the most. When I’m walking alone in the streets, I feel like a fraud, somebody who was never meant to be there, but still, I walk next to my fellow siblings, because that’s what I believe we are, brothers and sisters of cosmos, totally alienated but connected at the same time. This idea strikes me deep inside. Even though I like taking strolls around people, my most preferable ones are those I take inside me, just like now.
I consider myself a subject to be examined and life to be experienced. I’m the little scientist of my own. I’m a small devil that plays with me. I find myself often lost in my thoughts, that’s my best situation. Feelings and thoughts, dreams and ideas, a bit of flesh and some liters of blood, that’s what I am. But above all, I am nothing in a full way. I’m nothing and nobody who feels that he’s everything. At some point, I may be everything, the whole cosmos, in just a body, a brain and a mind.
Moments like these I feel like I’m a big eye that sees everything, understands everything, conquers whilst is getting conquered.
Who am I, full stop.
Doesn’t really matter.
What matters the most is that I’m here.
Maybe it’s not me the one who exists, senses, feels, thinks, dreams. But I’m so completely connected to anything that everything makes sense. I find a meaningless meaning out of this. It’s beauty calms me down. I no longer have to think.