Have you ever been reminded of who you are?
Every so often I’ll find something—an old journal entry, a letter, an email, or a piece of inexplicably bad writing with just one good line—and I’ll instantly recognize it as mine. But it seems so distant from where I am now that I could just as easily believe that someone else wrote it. And if it wasn’t for my pesky and immediately-identifiable handwriting I probably would think someone else wrote it.
But somehow, these old pieces of writing bring me back to myself. I don’t know how else to describe it. I suppose it’s close to an ‘aha’ moment but I hate to call it that. It sounds too much like an epiphany and these reminders are never anything as remarkable as that. There is no light bulb going off here.
I guess I just find myself back in an “old” situation, doing my same “old” thing, but it doesn’t feel old at all. It feels more than simply familiar. It feels right somehow. But I don’t know. It’s not even that. I don’t know if it is right. Maybe it just feels nice.
It almost feels like this is who I am—A confused girl sitting here writing completely asinine blog entries.
Ha, I’ve never felt so at home.