Growing up, I’d wondered countless times about the answer to a significant question- Who was I?
We’re products of stories. Stories which we’ve been told since the beginning of our own time on earth. We live life staunchly believing in them and even everything they tell us about ourselves. When they’d call me a shy girl, I accepted it as part of my demeanour. When they’d call me stupid, I believed I just mustn’t have been born with what it takes.
They answered my significant question for me.
Today, perhaps a little too late or, maybe its never too late, I had an epiphany. I miraculously realized I never needed to know from anyone else of what I was capable. The instant I learnt how to speak and comprehend, I gained the ability to tell my own story, to dictate my own life.
If I write the story of my life and I say I am a confident, enthusiastic, smart, loving, courageous, beautiful, brilliant woman; then heck, that is who I am!
Nobody can tell me otherwise.