Indubitably, I've encountered a myriad of memories, puzzling over the "thousand different versions of myself." Friends, moments, places, so much nostalgia, the diverse flow of events encapsulated within each day is almost supererogatory and I feel a headache coming on. Leaving the greatest impressions are the continuous journeys of 'self-discovery' and establishment of identity, intertwining magnificently creating a sense of ego and self. Recently, I've begun to catechize my conscience... why must I define myself? Rationalizing and categorizing various traits and ideals until I fit neatly into a box labelled 'Sonya.' Diagnosticate a trait, envelope it in explanation, and stamp my name on it.
Really, I'd like to proclaim simple mortality, yet I am hardly the person I was a year ago and it feels a shame giving so little consequence to the changes I've made. Tireless self-analysis has led me to the decision that it is simply best to exist effortlessly, without the labels and explanations. Thus, presently, I simply "am" ...In the wise words of Chuck Palanhiuk: "We are not special, we are not crap or trash either. We just are. We just are, and what happens just happens"
my most recent sound obsession
approximately one year ago.
present.
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