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Incoherent Inquiry/ Identity Crisis
Alex Rehmar
10 Feb 2005
As I lay in bed at night, thinking and reflecting, a terrible thought crept into my head. Maybe I am not who I think I am. Maybe I do not really know who I am. I could be anyone. I am alive, this I think, but do not know. Because the theory of life lies in that it is a temporary thing that one can not grasp, but rather is only distinguishable when it is lacking. But only thought to be lacking, for no one is truly sure as to what happens after the body dies. Perhaps the mind lives on forever, in a world beyond the illusion of time. But, what does having life mean? If it gives me a purpose, what is that purpose, and will that reveal to me, who I am?
I am a human. What does that say? It tells me that i have responsibilties and duties. It tells me that i belong to a species that is superior to all others, and as part of who I am I ought embrace my human nature. Thusly I must be destructive, hateful, and ignorant. I also must simultaneously be kind, compassionate, loving, and reasonable. This seems paradoxical, but perhaps only because i can not grasp it, or have not thought of it from other perspectives. What then is right? What is wrong? What distinguishes them, and who decides that?
I have a name, but a name is just a name, a distinguishable title that seperates me from people who have a different name than I do. However a name by no means makes me who I am. It says nothing about me except perhaps the names of my parents, but again it gives no hints as to who they or I are. Each day of the week i rise from this bed and find my way to school. A veritable prison where for eight hours a day individuality is drained from hundreds like me, at least partially. We are herded like cattle. Each day, the same time to eat, to walk the halls, to take breaks from class. Every class we are told how things are, why they are that way, and in a sense, how we should think. Who taught the teachers? Who decided initially why things are the way they are? Each day the same time to arrive, and leave. Then individuality is ours again, and we can become more of who we are in this newly attained freedom. Has school made me this way? Is it my own fault for seeing school in such a way?
I seem to know how I act sometimes. I know how I think sometimes. I can see sometimes, bits and pieces of who I could be, or can be. But I have never seen quite who I am. Other people may see it, but I do not know who I am, and it worries me. What if I never find out who I really am? What if I am supposed to be someone that I never become? What if i have already met who I am and did not recognize myself? What if I can never get me back? Who then do I become? Perhaps I have some reason for being that i have not begun to fathom, and never will. If so, then what is the reason behind the reason?
Maybe God can answer these questions for me. But, if there is no greater force in this existence, if there is no creator. What then caused all of what is to be? What role do I serve in the entirity of existence? Or do i serve as nothing? Perhaps I am here only to be here, not to accomplish anything or to effect anyone. This thought saddens me, but if that is so, then so be it.
I lie in bed, wide awake, confused, concerned, and wishing for some sort of hint. Nothing comes, I turn the music down and close my eyes. Images of all the people I could one day become flash through my thoughts. Sleep comes and the next day I return, with the sun, to my normal routine.
So many questions, so many thoughts, too few answers, so little time.
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