Who Am I?

When I’m home alone, I completely strip away my poised, dignified facade. I blast my music the loudest it can go, belt out the lyrics, dance around my house with no care of the world. I slam on the piano, make up tunes, string words into nonsensical phrases. I try out outrageous clothes and strut down the stairs, I take out the ice cream and make humongous sundaes, I go crazy… and it feels great.

But then I wonder, is THIS who I am? Or is the way I act when I’m around people who I am? Do my friends shape my personality? Is that fear of being judged the one that judges the way I act? Is that fake? Am I fake? What if I act different around different people- who then AM i? I don’t really know- I’ve always struggled with my identity ever since sixth grade, since I’m the type of person to change who I am according to the group I’m with, just so that I could be accepted. But it’s been getting better, since I’ve started to stick up for what I believe in, rather than stupidly laughing at everything that everyone says. But still…

It seems strange to think that the way you act when you’re alone is who you are, because then that’d imply that the person that everyone knows you as is WRONG. So then, who IS that person when you’re alone? Maybe it’s just you on an extreme level, since all your barriers for acting crazy are gone, you know? Well, I don’t know. It’s just interesting. It’s also interesting how other people think of me differently than how I think of myself. For instance, a lot of people think of me as a bouncy, happy girl. Which for the most part, I am. The last thing they’d think label me as though, is deep. And I don’t think of myself as deep either, but at the same time, I’m not a brainless girl who doesn’t question the things around me, you know? And when people get to know me and realize that there’s more underneath that happy, bouncy cover, they’re surprised. Why though?

Anyway, today was a very, very, very beautiful day. It’s really too bad that I woke up at eleven and wasted away the whole morning. I hate that feeling of unproductivity. Then I had a piano recital from two until six, and such a beautiful day feels even more wasted. Especially since I played horribly. When I’m at a recital, I get unusually antsy, and by the time I get up there to perform, I’m pretty much wasted and I can’t focus on playing a piano anymore. It’s bad. But on a better note- yesterday, our youth group reached a miraculous number of 105 youths. THERE’S something to praise about.