In the quiet hours – the moments when the world seems to slow to a halt – I see my life stretch out all around me in a sort of mismatched tapestry. I see the choices I’ve made, my evolved dreams and wishes, and the things I have learned. Mostly, I try and figure out how I ever got here in the first place.

And in those moments, I wonder ‘who am I, really?’

I let the question tumble around in my mind, listening to how it sounds, and how it makes me feel. I open myself up, tenderly at first lest I expose too many things too quickly, and pick out something familiar. I let the memories and fragments come to me and surprise myself as I remember things I had forgotten. The question tumbles still and turns up something I’m proud of, which can often be a pleasant surprise that makes me feel solid and strong. Sometimes, this question will turn up things that will catch me unawares in a way that leaves me feeling vulnerable and exposed. Doubts and fears that I didn’t realise I had will reveal themselves in all their messiness and clutter up my conscience, refusing to be ignored of removed in any conventional way.

The question is a powerful and a stubborn one; it’s confronting and relentless.

If we come up with no answers, it asks us to look again. If we still come up with nothing, it demands we find out.

It will pursue us our whole lives. Even if we run from it, the answer will catch us in the end, regardless of how active we have been in the choosing of it.

But we do get to choose.

So,

Who are you?

Who do you want to be?