I want to be defined by the things that I love, not the things I hate.

I don’t know who I am. I don’t think anybody knows who they are; we just go through life searching and deciding and changing our minds. I’ll never be able to describe myself in a few words, no matter how many online quizzes you ask me to. I’ll never be able to say three facts about myself at the beginning of the school year.

Then, the symphony of self-doubt comes to a halt. Everything clicks into place. Amongst the blur of uncertainty and distorted definitions of myself, a single moment comes into focus. That single moment is recreated anew each time it occurs, but they feel the same. It could be the outro of “Daylight” by Taylor Swift seeping directly from my earbuds into my soul and into this column, or it could be the familiar scene of trees blurring together through the car window, or it could simply be the fact that I’m wearing my favorite shirt. Everything and nothing integrate themselves into each other to create balance, and within that balance, I am whole. I don’t need to be able to describe myself in order to know myself. I am cultivated of memories, feelings, and moments in time that have since faded.

I feel like myself when I’m sitting in my living room on the blue chair, playing video games while procrastinating my homework. Unfortunately, making things worse for my future self is a familiar occurrence. I feel like myself when I’m around my close friends; when I don’t have to think about what I’ll say or do next. I feel like myself when someone else knows who I am. When someone correctly predicts what I’ll say next. I don’t know who I am, but they do. Part of myself is how others perceive me whether I like it or not.

Not the things that I’m afraid of. Not the things that haunt me in the middle of the night.

I feel like myself when I’m listening to music. Each song has its own meaning, accompanied by things I’ve associated it with. I feel like myself when I’m so overjoyed that I can’t contain the emotions. I feel like myself when I’m so overwhelmed that I can’t breathe. 

I’m myself when I’m in my comfort zone. My comfort zone isn’t a zone, but rather a state of being. It can be found anywhere. My comfort zone is everywhere I’ve been, everywhere I’ve seen, and everything I’ve heard. It’s my senses telling me that I’ve done this before, so I can do it again.

Above all else, I’m the things I put time into. I’ve spent countless hours of my life at Patterson Ice Center, gliding and spinning and flying and jumping. I feel like myself while I’m figure skating.

“Daylight” finishes playing in my headphones, and I go back to wondering who I am. There will be more moments where I’m lost, and there will be more moments where I find myself.

I just think that / you are what you love.