to be or not to be?

The desire to belong often times stifles the desire to be. But how does one be if one never learned to be? How does one learn to be, if one never belonged?

Staring at the person before me, I am their reflection. I mirror their pose, their stance, their expression, the way they carry their arms and legs and hold their head. I mouth their words. I observe how they squint their eyes and quirk their eyebrows. I become them, until they leave and another replaces their spot. But I am simply a reflection. I have no voice. I have no body. I am a temporary vessel of their imprint on this shallow mirror. I am a two-dimensional being trapped behind a glass prison of my invention. 

When there is no one standing before me, I practice my own pose, my own stance, my own expression. Am I an angry person, one with a hunched back and tight muscles, a glare permanently fixed onto my face? Am I a sad person, wilted and soft with tears ever-flowing in my eyes? Am I a happy person, lips stretched into a beaming smile, my body moving so fast my own reflection would one day be hard-pressed to imitate?

I am a Pinnochio waiting to be. But if I step outside the mirror’s frame, will I have feet to stand upon? Or will I dissipate into nothingness, a mere vapor of a soul, become yet another invisible ghost hanging aimlessly in the air? Will the world accept me as a person, a real person, who is trying to be?

I do not know. And I will not know until I leave the mirror’s edge.

Wanted to write about a feeling I’ve long-grappled with. To describe it as a loss of identity is not entirely accurate if I’ve never been quite sure of my identity to begin with. I feel like this is something more people struggle with than people admit. Understandable as to why–the illusion of identity is accepted as more valid than the lack thereof–but I don’t see why it’s so bad to admit that I don’t really know who I am.