Who are we in real life? Is there something like “me” in this world, or are we just one of a copy of each other? We have 8 billion people around the world and not every single one of them matters to you or me which saves us from the elimination fear and how big that we are and, yet, shows how small we care. Does it matter, having so many people? No, because you are not one of them and you will never be whether you were the only one living in this world. What you are and your existence creates the perceiving of the idea of “you”. Life is all about you, even it is wrapped around others. There is nothing on this world that set ashore, tangling your mind about something now you do not own. Every sentence and idea after it possesses you is now “you”. You speak other languages because they speak the same one as “you”. Losing “you” is a prelude of death.
Trying to be someone else will not fulfill you, even if you hate yourself. Well, technically the brain of yours which is scientifically indeed yourself, as you can only be it, hates yourself, because it judges you compared with other people. You want to be better at things and your brain is just a supporter, but nonetheless, everything you try to be is a demonstration of your goals or ambition. Even if you are imitating someone, yourself is the one trying to be that person, there is no tearing apart of your existence, unless, you completely shut that segment down and really be that person which just going to give you the complete vain of having nothing, feeling that continuous agony in your veins constantly of what you have become of nothing of capability.
It is the biggest injustice one can do to itself, cutting themselves away, because of who they are wanting to be the best of they could be and again the same person taking themselves granted because of thinking it is the best way. Thriving yourself to be what you want to be even if you can’t have what you want is more fulfilling than hating yourself so much to kill it spiritually. Sometimes living the moment and accepting the time to make it worth is what comes along with the term patience. Remember, every second you live and make it worth, you don’t even etch it into your mind. That’s what called having the consciousness. It is the most valuable thing to have “yourself” in this world, but how little me and people know the worth of it kills me deeply.
Had I known what it meant to be yourself and the importance of it, the sleepless nights and tear of agony may flew away with the gracious tantalization redeem at expense. As Robert Breault once said “All of your life you pretend to be someone else, and it turns out that you were someone else pretending to be you.”