Guys, I can’t sleep.  Plus, I have been thinking for a while about getting my more thoughtful side out.  I know this blog is all pretty photos and “I like this dress” spruced up with adjectives that help portray my passion.  However, anyone who knows me, also knows that this is just one of my many interests.  Sometimes I worry that people who know my blog better than they know me, have the complete wrong perception of who I am.  I have political opinions, life philosophies, and hopes of completing many tasks in life that do not revolve around clothing.  This is why you will run into that random post that is just photography or whatever it may be.  Before I begin my thought, I have two things to say:

  1. While my writing style is often evolving, I try to be as clear and explanatory as possible.  Most importantly, I try to be real.  I don’t like to muck up my thoughts with a lot of pretty adjectives that have you going to the dictionary for a little help.  1. Because it gets in the way of the actual story. 2. Because that is not how I speak and I prefer casual conversation to writing that is obviously riddled with aid from the thesaurus.
  2. I consider myself in no way to be wise.  A truly wise man once said, “All I know, is that I know nothing.”  (Insert photo of me standing next to Socrates and wearing a shirt that says “I’m with this guy.”)

Anyway, I have been thinking lately about who I am and how I have come to be this way.  I have all kinds of ideas about how I should act and present myself.  Growing up I always wanted to be close to my best friend so when she liked pink, I liked purple.  My reasoning was always: Don’t be a copycat.  I’m pretty sure, at that age, my true favorite color was pink.  But she claimed the color, and I didn’t want to be the same.  I’ve always had this desire to be different.

Around the time of middle school I somehow got this idea that forsaking the girly, pink-loving, stuffed animal cuddling, emotional part of me would make me more attractive.  Who knows if it worked.  Sure, it made me stand out from a few other girls, I guess.  Being that way only made me assume that I had something figured out.  I would walk around with these thoughts in my mind that I was superior to other girls.  I thought that this plan was going to nab me who I wanted.  I suppose, for the most part, it did.  However, it was the complete wrong way to go about thinking.  I am disappointed that I spent so many years of my life naively imaging that I had already discovered the proper way to live my life.  I am more disappointed that I looked down upon people who were only being themselves, the person that I should have been all along.

I can say that now I am confident being who I truly am even though that person has faults and goes against the passive, big-girls-don’t-cry persona that I tried to embody for years of my life.  But that could not have happened for me if I hadn’t spent a few years in a wonderful and stable relationship.  As a young girl, I was always searching for a significant other and I always felt like I had to be this special and unique person in order to reel that person in.  Only a few serious years of undying love could help me see that I am unique and special on my own.  I don’t need a plan or a philosophy to be adored or admired.  I am complex and interesting enough to hold meaningful relationships with the people I love.

This may be a long and roundabout way of reiterating to you a cliche that we have all heard too many times.  What I’m trying to say is: Be yourself.  Yup, that’s what I’ve figured out after  20 years of life.  After years of contemplation and scheming, I have finally realized that the wisdom of many before us is exactly true.  In the long-run you will be happier with who you are and how much easier it is to live your life if you follow that small piece of advice.

I know that it is hard to be completely unguarded and confident in who you are.  It took having a boyfriend, family, and friends who outwardly love and care for me in order for me to slowly be comfortable with myself .  (The “myself” who dramatically fake cries when Peter pinches me and knows way too much about Harry Potter.)  If you are reading this, chances are you already know all the motherly pep talks that go along with not hiding who you are.  But, if you are anything like me, none of that matters.  All the words in the world can not make you see what it really feels like to be who you are and to be loved as exactly that person.  I can tell you though, it feels nice.  It kind of feels like home.

Happy soul-searching, hipikats.


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