I really don’t need to write anymore.
This sums it all.
Why do we feel the need to fit into a mold, a category, a box? In high-school it was labels and cliques. For adulthood its careers and hobbies. It’s cut and dry when it should be jagged and damp. Damp is fun, with out it there would be no mud fights.
Life is not a one size fits all. We are so much more than what we believe defines us. I struggle so freaking much with this. I’m consistently inconsistent. I want to be all the things and do all the things and my focus shifts. Don’t let anyone tell you, you have to be one thing. You are all the things in one. Our likes and our hobbies and our careers are not who we are. Our passions cannot be who we are, because over time they peel away into new resounding passions. We shed our cells, we leave behind old habits, old friends, we form new ways of spending our time; therefore those things cannot define us. We are more than words on a page and pictures in small squares. We are our character. We are our quirks. We are our flaws and our perfections, wholly and partially. Change your mind for the millionth time. Scream into the pillow because you have to start from square one because plan a,b and c didn’t work out. If it doesn’t serve you, question it’s existence; it’s purpose. Define what it is you are letting grapple your soul and release it. Do more of what makes your soul happy. Do less of what everyone else is doing. Become who you are, not who others think you are supposed to be.
There is no recipe for original. Be the different. Create the mold. If it isn’t there, stop looking, and be what you are hoping to find else where.