Tonight I have been struck with a thought that has left me speechless and utterly afraid: Every single path I have chosen in my life has converged into a single point that is my life at this very moment. A moment where I struggle with the decision in becoming the woman that my inner child would be proud of or shrivel into an empty shell that seals who I truly am inside. There are too many decisions that I regret to count on my fingers, and I could go on for days about the ways in which I would alter my past to shift my present, but at this time, all I can do is determine my future.
I have come to the unsettling conclusion that People Never Change. We humans, we mold ourselves into different versions in order to appease the public; Our personalities fluctuate as easily as our wardrobes. Opinions, tastes, and outward reflections sway towards the most favorable among our selected groups of peers, but our cores remain the same. We’re like canvases that we continually paint over in the hopes that someone will appreciate what we have to offer, but if you were to take a blade and slice through the thick, phony layers of superficial paint, you would find that original and unique piece of art that we are destined to be.
I don’t know how many layers I have suffocating my true self, but I know that I can no longer pick up that paintbrush encrusted with disappointment and the sad truth that I can never be that perfect piece of artwork for anyone else. I can only be the true piece of artwork that I am supposed to be; even if that means remaining in isolation until there is one open-minded individual willing to recognize the beauty that I hold within.
Is there a way to make others happy when you struggle to find peace with the person they want you to be?