Who are you?

So, who are you?

That’s a good question.

That’s a very interesting question or, even better, that’s a fascinating question.

But it is also a scary question, sometimes even a terrifying one.

It all depends on which perspective we look at it, from which angle we approach the question, from which vantage point we genuinely face it.

This is quintessential to any person’s life.

This is like a very unique and distinguished cell that never dies and stays with you forever.

Breathing.

Self-evolving.

Self-perpetuating.

And constantly triggering the ultimate question.

Who are you?

And, at any time that it pops up, you genuinely seek to be honest about it.

You strive to answer it correctly based on your understandings and all the influences of your surroundings.

But even right after you’ve finished responding to your own self, a sensation of incompleteness knocks at the door of your cognition leaving you feeling almost at loss with it, and your immediate reaction is to push it aside, to brush it away because, after all, you have a life to live and, God knows that you don’t have time to waste on these philosophical, unpractical, questions.

And, somehow, through a herculean effort, you manage to subdue the question and go on with your life.

However, as you know, it is made of an immortal cell.

So, it will come back.

And surely it does and, when it happens, you think that are older and wiser.

Therefore, when the new wave of interrogations comes, you have a more sophisticated, more structured, and more eloquent answer to the ever-present question.

Yet, somehow, despite your best efforts, once you finish answering it to yourself, the old lingering sensation of incompleteness appears out of the blue, as if it was just lurking around awaiting the right time to introduce itself again.

And, once more, because you don’t know how to deal with it, you brush it off with all your guts as if you want to rid yourself from an stealth and horrifying attacker.

And, as lucky have it, you manage to come out of it apparently unharmed and unscathed.

Nonetheless, as predictable as the sun rising on the eastern sky, it will come back to you, and probably with more voracity and intensity.

And when it reaches the realm of your cognition again, you will feel desolate, despaired, and misplaced, which are the basic and undeniable symptoms of mid-life crisis.

And, at this fateful time, the volume of the question is so loud that it seems disproportionate and intimidating.

It comes in bold capital letters.

WHO ARE YOU?

It is so vivid that, right there and then, it seems to be a matter of life or death.

It becomes the most important thing in your whole existence.

It is so powerful that either you succumb to its force and hide in the dark cave of sadness and misery or you accept the challenge and dare to seek the answers to this natural, constant, but sometimes frightening question.

And if you choose the latter, you have to pick up your pieces, catch your breath, go back to square one, and with all your might, once more attempt to respond to the greatest and most intimate question that you will ever have in any existence.

Who are you?

Who are you?

Who are you?.

To cite this Thought:

Cargnin dos Santos, Tadany. Who are you?.

Photo by Mohamed Nohassi on Unsplash