identity

Our identity is the stamp on the millions of postcards and envelopes that journey its way around the earth. Our identity is the about me on our countless social media accounts. Our identity is the only thing that matters to friends, bosses, strangers. But really what is the point of an identity when I can't be the person I really am?

Countless thoughts and questions run through my mind when I question my identity because I already know that the society I belong to has already moulded the person I have to become.

How can I be myself when I'm laughed at for knowledge I collect through the vast piles of words scattered onto paper.

How can I be myself when I'm pressured to do the things I hate from the people I love?

When girls my age wear shorts that are basically underwear and tops that expose the skin of their stomachs, how can I wear clothes I like without being known as the girl who's walked out of a history book?

How can I be myself when society has already shunned me when I've barely made my step towards the spotlight?

How can an identity that doesn't belong to me be inscribed onto the limbs and muscles of my body?

Why can't my identity be who I truly am?

Why can't I be valued for the manners I showcase without having to think I was born in the wrong period of time?

Why can't I be noticed for the amount of hard work I labour without being named as a nerd?

Why can't I express the feelings that flutter from my heart rather than having them enclosed in air tight jars?

Why can't I be appreciated for the progress i have made rather than the amount of cuts that embellish my skin?

It is known that every question comes with an answer. Even if the answer doesn't come straight away there is always one. I won't leave you with an answer but another question.
If you haven't accepted yourself for who you are, then how do you expect society to accept you?