I frequently find myself wanting to be someone else. Well, that’s not entirely accurate. I want to be me. I like me. I just want to step into someone else’s life. A pre-built life. It’s like eating out all the time instead of cooking. The meals are already prepared and you know what to expect, how they will taste, look, and you can choose what you prefer that day.
But building your own life is much more challenging. Is it more rewarding?
In school it was about being with the right people.Â Being accepted, liked, and respected. But it wasn’t me. I wonder how much of everything I “like” or do is me truly liking or doing. And how much is me. What parts of my life are fakes? What did I strive for only to feel like a fake?