土曜日, 8月 14, 2010
I sometimes feel that I live in a world where I am not entirely myself. Identity as a concept eludes me. Is it what we do or who we are that actually serves to define oneself? Although... I fear that the the former eventually leads to the latter.
In my mind, sometimes the concept of reality seems but an illusion. It is a version of myself that I seem so out of touch with. The things I do, the people around me... In reality, they seemingly reflect so little about me that even I wonder the relevancy of it all.
My identity somehow lies not with the makings of the real world but somewhat within the elusive gap that separates that from a dream. The me that exists in reality and the me that I know are sometimes not me at all. I occasionally wonder if I am a part of them, or them a part of me.
Philosophers claim that identity is a destination that one embarks on. A journey whose meaning becomes clearer as time goes by. I beg to differ. The simple question of "Who am I?" seems to be escaping my understanding the longer I am me. The question of my talents, my loves, my enemies... eludes me more than ever at this point in my life. I knew what they are once upon a time I suppose, but that time is forever lost.
Maybe the definition of identify in this sense lies not in the matter of who you are but something else entirely.
Is a name enough to describe oneself as a whole? When I am hardly myself in my entirety.
Is lost a good enough word to describe being a stranger to myself?
Maybe that's what they call lost in translation.
*written @ 10:45 午後.