Who am I?

Am I the face I see in the mirror? Am I the person I think I see? Am I that short dude with weird hair and an uncertain look who stares back a me? Am I the guy who pumps his fists in the air and yells just because he can and because he think no one can hear him? Is that really me I see?

Am I the person whose eyes I look through, whose mouth tastes foul in the morning, whose smelly feet stink up the whole room? Am I the man who can't bear the taste of celery, whose mouth waters at the smell of durian, whose nose gets blocked every time he sneezes? Am I the guy who loves the smell and feel of rain, who walks ten miles in a thunderstorm just because the wetness makes him happy? Is that me?

Am I the person whose thoughts run through my head, faster than I can catch it? Am I the little boy who wakes up every morning feeling overawed, but for the life of him he just can't remember what he dreamed? Am I him whose eyes get drawn by a frolicking squirrel, who can only stand in awe at a flock of soaring turkey vultures? Am I he who feels what he writes but fails to write what he feels? Am I he who dreams forgotten dreams, brilliant but ephemeral, high-sounding but short-lived? Is that me or not me?

Am I the guy whose heart thunders so crazily in moments of suspense? Am I he who stumbles over words and stutters when he faces a crowd? Am I the person who feels so much and yet so little? Who thinks he knows and yet knows not what he thinks? Am I he whose blood races, whose mind goes blank, who feels such joy and such despair? Is that or is that not me?

Who is that man whose thoughts I think, whose emotions I feel, whose eyes I see through? Who is that man whose burdens I carry, whose sorrows I wallow in, whose joys uplift me? Who is that man I see in the mirror, staring back at me? Who is he, indeed?

And all this time I've been asking the wrong questions.


"I am not what I am" - William Shakespeare, Othello