IDENTITY

Who am I?

I ponder this question every time. I always ask myself this. Did I choose this path? Did I decide this on my own? Or was it written in the cruel book of fate? I’m not entirely sure, I wish I knew. I used to believe I did sometimes, and then other times I’d knew I didn’t. But I’ve made my choice since then, a choice I knew I chose on my own free will, a choice I knew would change me, a... A choice I knew would determine my own identity. I’ve made the choice but... I hadn’t figured the consequence would result in this. It had backfired and left me wandering around in the dark. I know that I am someone but I don’t know who. I am distraught with sadness. With confusion. With despair. This is the sorrow of someone who doesn’t know who they are, or who anyone else is. I have no one to tell me who they are, to tell me who I am. I have no mirror, no reflection. But I have steps; I have the sound of my own steps to help guide me. I also have the sound of my own heartbeat, it beats fast. Could it be excitement? Adrenaline? Or could I just be in a state of shock? I have one of the five senses aiding in my quest. I have to fight for the rest. If not, I may never escape the darkness that is my lost identity. I listen to the sound of my footsteps as I try to trudge forwards. I can’t tell if it’s me or not for sure, I can only hear them, not feel or see them. The longer the footsteps continue the faster they get. I remember this feeling, this feeling is running. I’m running and I feel it! I now have acquired two of the senses. I continue running, I don’t know where or how but I I’m going. I still do not know if this will help, I’m just committing to the expression, “go with the flow.” As much as I don’t want to, there is not much I get to do about it. I try something different. I raise my hands up towards my face. Oh my... It’s flat. Like a blank canvas before it’s attacked with a barrage of colours and beauty. I feel and pat around my head for some indication of appearance. A warm sensation runs through my hands and fingers. The sensation continues sprouting from the top and back of my head. Is this hair? Do I have hair? The continuous feeling stops, and I run my hand through the hair. Its silky touch excites me. It isn’t long, but it isn’t short either. I go back to feeling around my face, the touch deforms and changes. I panic, what is happening to me?! The deformation halts, and I go back to touching my face. What is this? I now have a face I can call my own, I put fingers over my eyes, it’s still black. I take them away only to be surprised with the result. A slightly lighter black! I feel as if these eyes of mine are aiding in my sight and in my appearance. I now possess a face with regular facial features and hair. I jump with joy, the footsteps make a loud thud as I land. Ouch! I must’ve had my tongue out my mouth in joy as I leapt. A liquidly substance fills my mouth, I don’t dare swallow it. I can’t distinguish what it is though.  I start to swish it around in my mouth, I feel slightly queasy as I cannot tell what it is. I could feel the pain as I bit my tongue. The feeling of the substance is coming... No, not the feeling, the taste. The taste! Another of the senses! This taste, it’s blood; I hadn’t been able to smell it as I didn’t open my mouth. I spat the blood out and wiped my mouth with my hand. I now am in possession of four of the senses, only one left. I start to run again, I have to have that last sense, especially if I expect to get out of this predicament. A light appears ahead of me, I think to myself, do I need that last sense now? I shake my head and sprint towards the light. As I run, the gravity of my footsteps becomes heavier. As I run, an old record starts to play, “come to me, come and become who you are.” A nice, relaxing song I will admit, if not a little creepy. I get to the light and my smile widens. I’ve done it. I procure a huge smile reaching the ends of my face and step through the light. I know who I am now...

“Huzzah! Are you Alan?” A voice says in a triumphant tone. I look up to see who it is; it’s a boy, around the age of fifteen by the looks of it, my age. I’ve always been bad at the game “Guess Who.” I look around at my surroundings; I’m in a house, not my one either. It’s a nice olden day house with orange and red carpet, brownish and redish walls and a set of pale white drapes hanging over the windows disguising the outside world. An old record is playing but it’s impossible to distinguish the lyrics apart from the fact that you could tell it was a woman singing. I notice we’re in the lounge room at a small table, I see a piano in the corner, I see a door leading to a different room and I see an open doorway leading to what seems like a kitchen. I breathe in the air and let it out in a big sigh of relief. I always make things dramatic when playing board games, a strange habit. I notice an entrancing smell linger around my nose as if inviting me to where it’s coming from. Smell? The fifth sense! I’ve completed it! My own mind game has been completed. I win. The other boy may have won at Guess Who but I win at my own little mind game of Identity. I stand up from the table, push my chair in and stroll over to the open doorway leading to the kitchen. I look inside and my eyes are directed to a middle-aged woman pulling a large baked meal out from the oven with her heat mitts. She stands up straight and turns towards me. A loud smash is heard as the glass tray hits the ground and the baked meal splatters across the ground.

“MOTHER?!” The boy back in the other room exclaims. There was a frightened and shocked expression visible on the mother’s face. She trembled with fright. I felt a chilling sensation shoot up through my spine. I almost empathized with her fear, what is this feeling?

“What? WHO ARE YOU?!?” The mother screams. I loosen my jaw a little; I wipe a tear from my eye and turn to see the boy holding up a mirror. What do you mean? I stare at the mirror in a minute of silence before reacting. WHO AM I? I see a mess... A wild scribble of colour and confusion. So much for a mind game, I guess I really didn’t know who I was just when I thought I did. It was all a lie. I sprint past the boy nudging him to the side. I hear him drop the mirror, the loud smash reaching my ears. Bad luck.     I feel the tears run down the sides of my face and I scramble for the doorhandle on the shut door in the lounge room. I turn the handle and tear the door open, almost from its hinges. I look out at the world; I look as everything with a reflection laugh at me. It’s raining; I walk out onto the porch with silent footsteps and stand on the steps. I hold out my arms letting the pitter patter of the raindrops splash upon my hands... I shake my head and arms of the rain and dash out into the unknown.

If only I knew who I was could I change myself and make a difference. Nothing always works the way you want it to. So... Who am I? I’m not sure, not yet at least.

But I wonder... Who are you?