Who am I?
Am I the clothes I wear?
Am I the country I am from?
Who am I?
Am I the classes I take?
Am I the grades I get?
Who am I?
I have never known.
I didn't know what I was asked to write an essay on who we are two years ago.
I still don't know who I am today.
Is there a mask I wear?
A façade I fall into?
Am I the words people tell me I am?
Am I the words that come out of this pen and paper?
Will I ever know?
Masks are actually a beautiful thing. "Masks hide the face but reveal the soul".
So which is it?
Which is the real me?
The mask or the face?
Is it neither or is it both?
Am I what society wants?
Can I ever express myself in order to know?
Or has society forced us into a mold that has made it impossible to find our true selves?
Too many factors and influences and not enough being. Not enough living.
Who am I?
I guess in order to answer this question I must rearrange it.
I am who?
I am what words can't describe and what pictures can't depict.
I m who?
I am what I have become.
I am what I will become.
I am who?
I just am.
Me, Myself, and I