I’m sitting at a coffee shop, with a full face of make-up and carefully crafted outfit. I can’t help but think how funny the disconnect is between these things, style and beauty versus what I actually tend to write about on here. Although I love clothing and many of the aspects that come along with being a pretty “girly” girl, I recognize that they are all just material. Applying make-up, styling my hair, choosing my outfit for the day, these are things that bring me joy, but they are not the big things. Lately a handful of people both online and off have made comments about my confidence in “knowing who I am.” People who don't really know me all that well, or maybe only know me through social media. Which, in turn, has maybe thrown me into a minor existential crisis. How could someone I don’t know, know that I know who I am? I’ll give you a second to re-read that rhetorical question. Ultimately it’s lead me to asking myself, who the hell am I? I’m a thinker. I tend to get really in my head, but I’m working on reversing that. I become excited about things really quickly, and then lose interest. I’m working on that too. I think about the future too much. I think about why, when, where, and how I can contribute to society. I’m not defined by my clothing, my past, or my possessions. I'm a coffee-drinking, beach-going, car-dancing, 20-something with a major sweet tooth who's sometimes just as afraid to be "me" as everybody else is, but I'm working on that. Maybe "me" is always a bit of a work in progress.
Photos by Faith Danielle