You know, it really is the strangest sensation.
Often the everyday circumstance of my daily activities will remind me so much of myself that for a time, I almost become convinced that I am me.
This might sound peculiar, but more often than not, I am not myself.
Who I am at those times, I am entirely uncertain, for it seems to change as often as the weather changes its underwear, and quite probably more often than most people change their own.
Undoubtedly I am Alice, and have been for as long as I can recall.
If one should look upon the dictionary for guidance, an included passage may briefly read: ‘A female given name: from a Germanic word meaning “of noble rank.”’
Well, la-di-da and how do you do? Shall we sit for tea, sipped from finest china, little finger extended thus?
I could certainly give myself airs, until the fine china is revealed to be shot glasses, and the only finger I seem to extend of late, is most definitely not the little one.
Beyond that, I could not say. It’s hard to maintain perseverance or commitment when what you want, what you care about, or want you feel capable of doing, change from moment to moment, leaving a trail of chaos strewn behind, abandoned projects belonging to another me.
Not the current me, or even the previous me, but one of many. I don’t pretend to multiple personalities, but when your mood, desires, dislikes, and underwear completely changes each time, well, it may as well be a different personality.
So, from time to time, I am reminded of myself. I remember what it was like to feel a certain way, and wonder if perhaps it might be worth revisiting that state.
Many times, there may be a certain amount of overlap.
Sometimes I remember being myself, who isn’t or wasn’t me, but could be again if i were inclined to make the effort of being more myself than I am, was or could be.