Confessional 01

Sometimes, I have this overwhelming feeling that I am just a replacement — my existence is simply in place of someone else’s. I have this feeling that I have been molded or that I am constantly being molded into someone else’s image until I become her perfect copy. Perfect but still a copy. Just a copy.

Sometimes I feel like I’m losing myself. But then, I don’t know who I am. I might have fallen in too deep into a certain ‘me’ that I have lost who I am originally. Who am I originally? Do I have an origin or am I just a copy?

I am tempted to think that my identity is simply bound by roles. In the classroom, I’m the instructor. In the apartment, I’m the roommate. In our university’s academic oval, I am the runner who always does two rounds every Monday. In the cafe, I am this stranger who always comes in alone, drinks her latte quietly, and stares into the sky. I am a different person to different people and in different places.

And now, I feel like I am becoming another person to another person. And the fear that’s been consuming me these past few days is this: that I am becoming someone someone wants me to be and not who I want to be. Ah, forgive my constant word repetitions. I am just overwhelmed, is all.

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