I am someone who strives for originality and craves uniqueness. Drastic as it sounds, I would gladly sacrifice my humanity and morality for the chance to be an individual. A real individual. But by this I don’t mean different to everyone in the ‘hipster’ sense of the word. I don’t want to have to try and be unique, I just want to be it. I mean that I want to be completely and unquestionably myself. Only myself.
Of course I know all the sayings; no one can be you apart from yourself, you are your own person, there is only one of you. Blah blah blah, bullshit. If we are all different then why are there so many people with the same interests as us? Why are there so many universally ‘relatable’ things? Why do I find myself scrolling through hundreds of feeds and timelines and blogs and social media accounts and finding more and more people like me?
There are five things in my life (aside from family, friends and other basic needs) that I would say are important to me:
- Cats- specifically mine
- Clothes- specifically dark skinny jeans, doc martens, checked shirts, short skirts, long socks, harry potter/band t shirts, baggy jumpers.
- Books- specifically fiction, YA novels, poetry anthologies, a few classics.
- Coffee- specifically all kinds of coffee.
- Fairy Lights- Specifically blue or white, not yellow.
Now I would think, that given how specific my requirements for each of these things are, I would be one of very few people who would set these things as a top five needs in life.
But I’m not, there are numerous people that I’ve encountered who love all of the things that I do. Which is scary if you ask me, and if I overthink it too much then my brain delves into all sorts of ridiculous conspiracies about the government and media so I won’t go down that route. But essentially, this means that despite my best efforts; I am terrifyingly, painfully and undeniably…ordinary.
Maybe, I’m being melodramatic- correction, I am definitely being melodramatic.
But I am genuinely at a point my life where, although I finally happy with who I am, I don’t know what to do with myself. I don’t know what I want in life, I feel an extreme lack of purpose and I don’t have any long term goals due to my overall cluelessness.
So I’ve been desperately clinging to my sense of individuality. Yet now it seems that even that is nowhere near as prominent as I thought. I know that I like people who are different and I enjoy having the freedom to be who I am with those people. However, I don’t know how I feel about it when I look closer. When I do that I can see that actually I am quite similar to some of those people. Although a lot of my opinions and values and likes and dislikes may be against the general norm they still fit in with a group of people who feel the same way. It’s almost as if we have group mentality of collective abnormality. We are proud of it, but doesn’t that make me no more unique than any of them?
What if this sense of self that I’ve been feeling lately isn’t really that at all? It’s just been me changing from trying to fit in with one group in order to fit in with another, more accepting group.
I don’t really know what to do with myself anymore. I don’t know what to think either.
I know that I am immensely over thinking now. This entire piece of writing is the product of me lying in bed at 11:30pm and allowing my mind to wander. When I wake up I’ll probably come to some sort of conclusion as to whether or not I change myself or my outlook on life. Heck, I’ll probably laugh at this entire piece of writing because it’s so trivial. But for now I suppose I will continue my existential crisis as I attempt to fall asleep. Because for now, in this moment, it’s important.
Anyway, chances are none of this makes any sense, but if you’ve read this far then congrats, you’ve impressed me!
Until next time,
Love Jodie x