Crush with Eyeliner

From Monster, 1994.

Identity is a messy thing. You think you know who you are. You dress a certain way, act a certain way, speak a certain way. You present your best self to the world, or so you think, every time you post a new profile pic on social media, post a pic of the complex meal you just cooked, post a pic of your immaculate/kooky/cozy/eclectic/artsy/worldly house/flat/apartment/room. You do all of these things to assert your version of who you are, so that everyone knows you're that guy/girl.

But are you really? How much effort did it take to get yourself that way? But maybe that's part of your identity. You aren't really you without the purple hair, the face jewellery, the sleeve tattoos, the dress made of bits of Moroccan tapestry held together with kilt pins.

And that's cool, man. That's perfectly alright. It's better than alright, because who wants to be normal in this weird world anyway? In the sea of beige, be the neon. That's how that saying goes, right? The beige deny their true selves, choosing to wear the uniform of the masses, while the neon go out of their way to hide their authentic beigeness. Or, the beige are presenting the most authentic version of themselves to the world, while the neon are the rare birds who can't keep their true colours hidden. The fake is true, and the truth is fake. What a mess indeed.

But really, the messy part isn't the mess you made of your vanity to get your make up just right, or the mess you made on the kitchen counter to cook that spectacular meal, or the mess you made in the living room to perfectly wrap and decorate the myriad Christmas presents under your tree.

The messy part is that you don't get to pick how other people see you. You don't own that. Your identity, however self-created or accidental, is all in your head. You present yourself as a writer; your mother buys you a ukulele for Christmas and tells you it was always your calling. Not that validation from others is required. You know who you are, and that's all that matters. Right?

Turning inward... every day I wake up and wish I was something else. Goth. Punk. Harajuku. Jedi. For about a year, I wasn't my true self unless I had asymetrical rainbow coloured hair. Right now, all I want is to be invisible, to fade into the background and let someone else be rainbow coloured and asymetrical. Until I bump into her on the street and curse her under my breath for being cooler than I am. Then I'll take it back.