What if we are all made up of those around us. Each and every one of us is mearly an accumulated mess of other people. Intertwined, tightly wound, jumbled mess. And that's both what makes us identical and unique in the same breath.
You might like walks through nature like your father, but also crave the fluorescent lights of shopping malls like your sister. Love the sweetness of chocolate like your mother, and long for times recharging alone in front of a screen like your brother.
But what if it's more than that.
You laugh loudly now because of that friend from high school, who laughed proudly then. Or you smile at strangers in the street, because when you were younger someone sweet smiled back at you. Perhaps you miss the smell of roses, like the ones you were given on a valentines day when you were 18. Or the feeling of the sun on your back, like that time your friends took you to the beach.
You are scared to make too much noise incase you trigger an avalanche of anger, because someone was too harsh to you 10 years ago. So you cry when you are frustrated because it's better than becoming what others have been towards you. Maybe the way you look at yourself in the mirror is because you grew up hearing your friends get bullied, for the bodies they were born into.
You are cold to strangers when they ask for the time, because you were told you don't owe anyone anything, no matter how small. You check the oven is off because a house in your neighbourhood burned down years ago. You're cruel to the new person at your job, because no one helped you when you started. And you stopped worrying about your own sanity, because you live for the approval of these other people.
So if we are just an disfigured mess of other people and our experiences, how much of us is pure? If it wasn't for the people who made us, who would we be? Would we be? Would you chose to be who you are today, or would you change the way you interact with the world?
Because if you are made up of other people's mess. You are equally a part of them and their mess. What impact did you have? Was it pure? How did you shape the mess that is your best friend, or the mess that is your mother, or the mess that is the stranger who asked you for a dollar? Every interaction you have becomes intertwined in the lives of others. So inturn we are all just messes, messing up other messes. Isn't that just messy.
Jen xx
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