Who am I?
A question each and every teenager out there asks themselves, whether they acknowledge it consiously or subconsiously. It's always lurking in the back of our minds, gnawing away at all that we know. Governing what we say and or don't say. What we do or don't do. What to try, what to know, where to go.
Who am I?
It even rules over our futures, changing what we want to become, will become, have become.
Who am I?
In a perfect world, we'd learn the ever-elusive answer (sometimes, I'm not sure even adults have a sense of who they are - some more so than others, I suppose). We'd find that someone, somewhere, that tells us who we are. What we will be. What we will do. That someone, somewhere, who knows and tells us what effect our all-too-short lives will have in the bigger picture . . . but this is not a perfect world. It never has been, it isn't, and it never will be.
Who am I?
You search endlessly, on and on, for that something special. That thing - or things - that make you you. You search and search, eventualy getting so caught up in the searching that you miss everything important (okay, so knowing yourself is important, but there are bigger thing, more than me and you, that actually are more important, and I'm sure you know what I mean).
Who am I?
I am my father's son, my mother's 'baby boy', my sister's pain and comfort. My best friends' lives, my enemies' bane of their existance (or should it be 'existances'? I think I missed that class . . .). But these could apply to anyone, anywhere (you know, within reason, of course). Anyone can be any of these, simply because they were born. It doesn't make you who you are, make me who I am; after all, everyone's supposed to be 'different' (some more than others, as the unfair balance of life and death must dictate).
Who am I?
Who am I?! I have to be somebody, or else I'd not be here, thinking this, asking this. I have a personality, but that might not be me at all. Personalities can change if prodded enough. Life changes in an instant - as simply as pressing a button, or flicking a switch, your life can change its direction completely. What your personality is like can't be who you are.
Who am I?
Some would answer with a name, others with the evasive 'whoever you want me to be'. One could respond with a 'you're you', another with a long, descriptive speedh that does little more to answer your question than it does to put you to sleep so you can pause in your search for a short rest (but I digress).
Who am I?
I don't think anyone can tel you - there's too much depth to the question. So many dimensions to a simple three words:
Who am I?
I don't think I'll ever know, not for sure. My life . . . anyone's life, really . . . is far too unstable.
Who am I?
I am . . .