Postcard #7: Who the hell do you think you are?
Who the hell do you think you are?
And what makes you think you have anything worthwhile to say?
Who the hell do I think I am?
I’m a life unravelling. Alongside 6 billion others.
I don’t know exactly what I am, but I know I’m a complex thing.
I’m conscious. I’m aware.
I can be transported by the flickering shower spray caught in the beam of sun coming through my bathroom window.
I’m having this experience. I’m creating this experience.
I’m infinitely unimportant. But I can decide.
I’m one leaf fluttering and flipping its way to the ground. Delighting in the flight.
I’m the boss of me.
I think. I write.
Sometimes I think I’m a person whose thoughts and words and actions are of no use to anyone. But then, I remember they’ve already been of use to some.
I’m telling you a little of what it’s like to be me. And you might tell me a little of what it’s like to be you. No moment can be wasted in this way.
I can be only who I am.
I’m a vulnerable explorer. Who are you?
