Published by: Olivia
“Describe yourself,” I told Rebe when she asked me what we were going to write about today. After several minutes of “I don´t know how, I don’t know what to write, I don´t know who I am,” I realized what a difficult task I had given her. How is it that this girl sitting in front of me has never been asked who she is, and has never asked herself? Why is it that I have the privilege to ask myself all the time and still don`t know? I long to create this space for her, encourage her to write something, to explore herself from different angles. I ask her to think about times she felt truly alive, times in which she felt loved, times in which she made difficult decisions, in which she experienced fear or regret or pride, in which she was hurt, moments of joy. In my creative writing class this week I was asked to journal about my physical and emotional reactions to the question: who are you? I sit here biting my pen, without inspiration, and realize how connected we all are in our journey for self-discovery.
What They Don’t Tell You
I think people will never understand you and they will never tell me what they think of me but it doesn’t matter…Know why? Because people will never see the good in you or the marvels you can do they will just see your defects and bad things you have done, that’s why this is called “what they don’t tell you.”
Well they will always try to verbally attack you, this is the least of it and meanwhile these people who don’t say anything to you are worse than you…So always have clear what they don’t tell you because this is what doesn’t have to matter.
I think that these people who don’t tell me what they think of me, good or bad, I think it is because they don’t know me now they criticize me for an error I committed I think they will always do this for the simple fact that they think you don’t have feelings and you don’t do anything good for other people, and I think the people who don’t tell me things I think these people someday are the ones who will need more from me, for good or for bad, and so all those people who don’t tell me who I really am it’s because they don’t realize their own defects, they just criticize other people.
What they don’t know about me!
I think that even I ask myself: Who is Rebecca? But I don’t even know myself, but I think that the true Rebecca left because of all the suffering and that right now the Rebecca that is here only feels good when she spends time with her mother or when she is kissing her boyfriend, or when she is in a nice place with her friends. But OK I think that in these moments exists the true Rebecca.