I am.
I exist.
I live on this planet, and go about my daily life just like all the seven billion other people who live on this planet and go about their daily lives.
I am just like them.
A human being,
A member of the human race,
A member of a country,
A member of a city,
A member of a synagogue,
A member of a theatre,
A member of a choir (or two).
But first, I am a member of my own brain,

Which means I owe membership fees.
It means I hear songs from the best moments of my life, playing in my head at all hours of the day and all hours of the night, such is my mind.
It means I can still recite by heart from Joseph, Fiddler, Peter Pan, such is my choice.
It means not a day goes by that I don't engage with Harry Potter, such is my calling.

It means I can’t picture an image someone describes. I'm just not programmed that way.
It means I craft phrases perfect for that story I'll probably never write.
And here’s a high fee: To question whether they actually like me, or if they just pretend because they don't want to disappoint me.

I can hide my flaws from others, but not myself. My fee forbids this lie.

In every moment of baseless fear I pay my fee, torn between shame for my weakness and pride for my honesty.

I pay my fee with each self doubt, a double debt, seeking the balance between what is right and what is arrogant.

But most of all, it means I’ve learned to push through and accept the struggle.

These are membership fees I have to pay, but I am willing to do that now.

Quietly I say: I am proud of me. All of me.