Image by Med Ahabchane from Pixabay 

When I first hear the words “define yourself”, all I feel is self-alienation. I feel as if being asked to wrap up my years of existence into a few lines is far too much to ask. I’ve always known myself as a fiery, highly artistic, opinionated being, yet I’m willing to alter that in a matter of seconds if I see someone else being liked by the majority public, I try to mimic their personality in myself. However, recently, I have come to openly express myself, wholly as I am. I like to write, not because everyone does it, but because I feel when I’m describing an event, an incident, or a thing, my verbal statements don’t do it justice, and beautiful, creative words on a document or paper, seem to justify the true essence easily. I like to paint, not because it’s every other teenager's hobby, but because I like to think the same gene that passed on from my great-grandfather to my dad, and now, to me, should be used in a fluid manner to put forth who I am, what I believe in, even when even the most intricate of words don’t seem enough. I like to publicly participate in speaking, not because I have an obsession with being right, but because if I cannot flaunt the way my mind works, how am I supposed to leave my mark? I see myself slowly expressing my likes and dislikes, without a second’s hesitation, or fear that many social groups would throw me out, that I don’t fit in their “world”. I see myself slowly traveling down the path made just for me, and how the phase of doubting that it was ever there, was just another part of the same road.

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