Echoes of Identity

I still remember those hexagon tables, the windows of the room facing the playground, and the little, brown-covered notebooks we would write in. Sitting in a corner, I never understood to this date why I always failed at friendships. That girl, whom I always used to try so hard to please and I hardly now remember what for, who knows where she is now. But second grade wasn’t the first time I tried too hard at friendships and failed. But again and again, these failures make me question why we yearn for acceptance and friendships. Why validation is so important? And how to be someone’s friend? Be yourself is the cliché my ears are tired to hear. But they don’t like the goofy, dramatic, and a little weird mix.

People like to be with similar kinds. It’s like some segments of the strings should be coherent. And how do you know which one that exactly is?

At times I wonder who have I become. And what did I set out for? I find the pieces of people I used to admire growing up, inculcated in me. And sometimes I find myself wondering that this is not me, but will they like what I am, and more importantly, will I like who I am?