Something that my father has always expressed openly is the importance of self-commitment, of self-expression and holding close the most genuine parts of our soul. I was raised to keep a steady expression, even if my voice quavered, I was taught that my small legs at the age of 7 could take me to wherever it was that I felt drawn to… whatever it was that felt right to me. It does not matter what carriage or plane or boat we take, nor how bumpy our ride is, but that our mind and soul is steady in knowing that the direction feels right.
I have always struggled with resonating with one particular identity and wearing it permanently, the thought of permanency frightens me, and I change my goals and visions more frequently than I browse online clothing sites. I play with personalities and identities in order to suit my latest discovery to add to my collection of self-identity, maybe I’m just sentimental for a childhood that was taken too quickly… you know like how we used to play those games where you would switch up a character’s top, shirt, dress, shoes, hat etc. in order to mismatch?
Maybe, doctor Freud would say that I internalised a too soon stolen game of identity matching, or ‘Guess who?’. Or maybe, I’m just 19 years old and overwhelmed with the possibility of being anything I put my mind to… maybe, I just want to be everything because I can be everything.
I’ve come to the conclusion that it is less of the reason, or more of the journey that is important, the process of drawing together your shirt… your shoes… your dress is no different to the process of laying out your career, your degree, your friends, your belief.
The discovery is in the journey, and what a long and tiresome one it shall be, but what a small price to pay for a sense of self.