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Identity Crisis of an Eighteen-year-old Girl- A Poem (sort of?!)



"Introduce yourself to me", said my professor

And in answer to her question,

I was unable to get past three mere sentences.

Now you see, I could tell her my name,

my place,

and my age.

But then I freeze- 

my lips parted in distraught.

I try to conjure up something- anything-

That may be of interest

To those who listen to me.

But my mind goes blank

And my mouth stays open

Leaving me with the reality that

I do not who the hell I am.


I think of the person I am

In front of my friends.

Understanding and kind-

Someone who loves them 

To the depths of the world.

Someone who is up to any crime

At any time

If they wish for it.

Someone of great advice

To abstain from grave danger-

A steering wheel and a brake

Both combined into one.


I think of the person I am

In front of my father

Obedient and soft-spoken

Always complying with his rules.

I think of the person I am

In front of my mother

A bit too arrogant

And of a sharper tongue

She must've wished at times

If she could cut.


I think of the person I am

To my followers on Instagram

The one who is stuck

On making everything aesthetically pleasing.

The one who sometimes shares too little

And sometimes, a bit too much.

I think of the person I am

To my friends on Snapchat

Forced to watch snippets 

Of my life, they never asked for.

A bit too narcissistic at times

With the way I assume

They'd want to see the coffee I drink

And the classes I take.


I think of the person I am

To my therapist.

Just another mentally unstable teen

Who just can't figure out 

Where to put her heart.

Just someone who's had scars

She kept picking at forever

Until they melted right into her skin

Becoming a part of her body

And hence, of her mind.


I think of the person I am

To a stranger passing me by.

Seeing me with my earphones in

Strutting along without a second glance.

Maybe I'll seem too haughty

Maybe I'll seem too gentle

Maybe they'd want to approach me

Maybe they'd want to never see me again.

Maybe they don't see me at all

Because I'm of no significance to them.

Maybe their gaze passes right through me

And onto something peculiar beyond.


I can think of all these things

And all these people

And draw up countless different possibilities.

But to think of the person I am

Staring at my own reflection in the mirror

Alone in my room-

Oh, how my mind goes blank again.


And I do not really know

If that's because

I'm everything all at once

Or because

I'm nothing at all.


So, please

Ask me my favourite colour (it's black)

Ask me my favourite flower (white lilies)

Ask me why I'm obsessed with Greek mythology

And with fictional characters.

Ask me to re-enact Jo March's devastating monologue

Or name Taylor Swift songs by listening to it's tune


But for the love of God,

please don't ask me who I am.


For that's the one thing

I do not know.

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