It’s funny, and unbelievable, how many people can live inside one body. Just this morning, there was a lazy lass who couldn’t even part with her bed. Then hours later, an articulate, passionate and sociable woman started talking about goals and plans and helping others. More hours in coupled by a bit of rain and an introverted bookworm shows up. Suddenly, a desperate and downright melancholic person emerges. Not long after the drama, the world’s shallowest individual goes laughing at the littlest of things. But despite the joy which ensues, a pull of darkness and gloom dominates again. I don’t even want to get started on last month, or last year, or a decade ago for the people within me who came and stayed for a while are now gone. Who knows when they’d visit next.
I guess the truth is, we are never just one person. We are never bound by definitions that we attach to ourselves. We are who we are in moments, in scenes, in feelings, that life allows, that we allow. We are who we think we are when we get to thinking.
My hope is that whoever lives in your body right this instant, gets to be someone you can understand and love unconditionally, shamelessly.