The Crisis of My Identity
Currently, as we speak, or as I write, my identity is parlayed in a time where I know not who I am. Am I wrong for not up rising to the discovery of one self, as we all so desperately strive for in our everyday lives? Am I ashamed at the fact that I do not know where my days of tomorrow are headed or that I can't honestly say this is who I am? No, hell no. I would never change the mysteries of my life, the doubt in my dreams or the times I wake at night, not knowing who I be. I know who I am, I just cant explain it to ya'll. I think that's where the fight comes, where the camera in my hand sneaking a peek comes from. Words aren't enough and my visual concepts are barely making it. If me not knowing who I am allows me to be who I am now, the crisis of my identity isn't a crisis at all. Its me trying my hardest to explain to ya'll that my identity is who I be, which isn't a crisis at all.