dubsteps.

I don’t know what I’m searching for.

It isn’t a physical alteration that has me pining…at least I don’t think it is. I can color my hair, switch out contacts for glasses, take out piercings, change the way I dress. All of that I’ve done and will continue to do for the rest of my lifetime. I like to mix it up every so often, so that’s nothing new. And it won’t even begin to scratch the surface of what I seem to be on the hunt for.

I think I’m having an identity crisis.

I know what I am, what’s expected of me and what I’m supposed to do. I understand those roles and believe me; I perform them to an outstanding degree. So well sometimes I fear, that the parts get blurred with reality until I’m not sure which way is up, down, left, right. It’s not that these actions are not genuine because for the most part, they are. I’m not always on high alert, ready to feed people what they want to hear at any given time. That wall has slowly been chipped away at, with much effort, for awhile now and is coming down like the Berlin Wall. I listen, I feel, and I react. That’s something so ingrained in me at this point I couldn’t get rid of it even if I wanted to. But then again, that’s not the point.

I don’t know WHO I am.

Granted, I’m young. I don’t necessarily think that I should know who I am at this point, but it would be nice to have at least a basic understanding of it. I’ve heard people use countless adjectives to describe who I am, but they’re generic. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to hear these things of course (I may not be able to take a compliment very well, but I’m not a complete asshole) however, they’re descriptive of my personality - my emotions and actions, not so much my actual existence. Where I am in this world, how I fit into it and my contributions to it. Right now, those things can be answered in one word sentences: California, I don’t and none. Not exactly easy to describe, I would imagine.

It’s quite the reality check to see people my age with an actual niche in this world. They fill their life resumes with things like “college graduate”, “teacher / doctor / rocket scientist / etc”, “wife”, “mother”. I can’t steal any of those things and make them apply to my life. They seem so grown up while I’m the one at the bottom of the list with things like “great listener”, “music connoisseur”, “pop culture enthusiast” and “champion beer pong master.” My list, although admirable, does not scream “Hi, I’m approaching my mid-twenties and have a grip on my life”. It’s more like “Let’s get as drunk as we can and do stupid shit!” Yeah, party on Wayne!

It’s a little early to dub this an actual “quarter life crisis” since well, I’m not quite at quarter life yet. But before I know it, I will be and then where am I at? I’m not the kind of person that makes life choices just to appease living by the standard of which others expect me to (ok, I’m not that person anymore) so I’m not going to run out and get married, get pregnant or enroll in college just so I can fit myself into those categories. I just won’t do it, especially that whole pregnant thing. For obvious reasons, and my vagina is more than thankful.

I’d like something to just come out and hit me over the head screaming “DUH, YOU IDIOT” but that would be too easy, too obvious. If life has taught me anything, it’s that you have to weed through complete and utter bullshit before any sort of clarity is returned. Well, maybe that’s just my life.

I want to feel like my existence is worth something. That at the end of it all, everything'll even out in the books. That I’ve said and done what I wanted to do and the world is better because of it. Maybe that’s asking a lot. In fact, I know that it is. But I think I can get there. Eventually.

Baby steps. It’s all about the baby steps.