Playing Yourself

I often wonder what it's like to know yourself, to be yourself. I wonder how many people are their true selves. Those few we encounter that truly represent who they really are, the person they want to be. I wonder how people are able to spend all their daily energies on life, on meaningful actions and making a difference. How many wake up with a brand new day that is full of promise and excitement.

It isn’t a fallacy. It exists. I’ve, on those fleeting passing moments, felt this self, this freedom of reality. It is a true sense of existentialism, being at peace with oneself in order to fully explore your surroundings without the ever draining weight of self doubt and worthlessness.

Some replace true happiness of the self with that of religion, accepting themselves through the eyes of a deity. An interesting avenue of obfuscation it is, but one that hides true flaws behind the protection of a higher power, foregoing responsibility of the self for that of forgiveness and repent. Side stepping potentially life affirming truths for the endless, albeit fantasy, love of the almighty and its promise of infinite happiness in the beyond.

I wonder of those people that can truly understand, love and live as themselves. I wonder of their fears and concerns. Fears of not making the most of the day. Concerns that not enough challenges can be overcome. I wonder how much more can be accomplished when you aren’t burdened with the daily task of playing yourself.

Those days when the self does come to life are highs that no drug can match. Happiness so condensed that it makes every scent a perfume and sound a symphony. And this isn’t laughing at a great joke, the tingle of love, or a success in the workplace - this is simple contentment with you. A clarity of the soul that feels so sweet that you shouldn’t have it.

Then of course, you don’t. Its gone. The resentment, loathing, and disgust all return. Growing through the holes where sunshine once poured through. Purging potential and hope, for failure and apprehension.

Sitting at the bottom of the well, watching the light fade, the cold waters swell around you. Its cold is familiar, easy. Wearing the granite smile, you can be someone else’s rock in the stream, but know that your climb back to the light is long and arduous. A pointless endeavor that will thrust your deeper back down when you fail.

Of all its joys, the sweetest fruit of the self is unlocking the door to real interaction with others. Being liberated from the oppression of the other self, the false prophet that lives on your extremes, stopping the lie to engage with everyone your care for. Those moments are the real highs, unlocking yourself for everyone to enjoy. To remember why you are you. To realise why others want to be around you. To understand that your self is one that others covet, to be one that is wondered of.

I still wonder. I still play the role. But I can still see the faint twinkle of light.