Who am I?
Reflections of a Wanton Child
I AM still in the process of evolving, even though I could say that a certain core part of me is more-or-less set, in stone. But if asked to say what that part of me is, I would be hard pressed to do so.
All I know is that I am often not what people see me as, and I sometimes surprise even myself.
I also find that as I have gotten older, certain rooted parts of me have either died off or gone so deep to sleep that I am not quite sure how to excavate them. One such missing part of me is the daring adventurer, who (it seems) has gone to stay, alongside the abject fun lover. Not sure how I got to this.
I BELIEVE, I can fly. You know, soar above my current existence, which of late has very much felt like someone else’s life that (ironically) has been constructed by me.
This cannot be right, especially for a woman who in her childhood used to dream of her flying self every night. Where is that free spirit? And what has this staid imposter done with her? That is exactly what I would very much like to know.
I WANT to be me. Surely by now this fact is very clear to you and, most certainly, is for me. I want to be the unruly child that I was: the one who aspired to (fictional) models like Beryl the Peril.
