I often have existential crises because I reject, whole-heartedly, parts of myself. I recall with vivid detail that anguish and hurt that permeated my being as the world told me to let go of the father that was not there, but that I could not let go of. Torn between two whole’s that make up my essence, both stand accused at the heart of a dilemma that taught me unequivocally that I must be willing to die for what I believe in. To me, there is no value in life…only meaning.
I often have identity crises because while others can ignore and accept certain facets of my being, I cannot. Just as I cannot ignore the pain and suffering in others. Just as I cannot invalidate what occurs where I can’t see to validate what I can. As every day passes, I am convinced that we are one, and move with a determination to spread love and togetherness despite the fact that around every turn I am asked to choose, one or the other.
I often have consciousness crises because every time I feel woke, I wake. As I explore farther into the depths of my own Self, I tell myself that the end is just around that dark corner, only to find another empty recess. To know that although I am not another, and can’t be, that I am far less empathetic with myself than I am with all else. Seeing and understanding that just as there are differences, there are similarities, and that ultimately, it’s arbitrary if you cannot accept the inevitable – I am constantly changing and it’s the infinite differences that make us similar.
I may be seen as a reflection, a mirage, a flaw or perfection, but I am nothing without love and light.
I am the person in the mirror loving what I see, even if you don’t love me.