“It’s not my responsibility to be beautiful. I’m not alive for that purpose. My existence is not about how desirable you find me.”
― Warsan Shire
Do we ever stop trying to “find” ourselves?
Is “finding” oneself not just a phrase for trying to understand all the weird thoughts, feelings, emotions, desires, dreams, fears,etc. ?
I’m not sure.
Perhaps one day my face will be covered in wrinkles, my hands will shake, my vision will be near nonexistent, and I will look around myself to find numerous self-portraits I have painted through my life.
Perhaps then I will laugh at the obvious conclusion buried deep within layers of aged paint.
Maybe then I will know what “finding” myself actually means.
Maybe then I will see that I was never actually finding anything but fighting the urge to simply accept myself.