Always and never the same

There are moments when I feel like I know exactly who I am. I think I’m secure in my being, my beliefs, and the knowledge of this is comforting. Even knowing that this "me" will soon change, that "future me" will be very different than "present me", I’m still soothed in the knowledge that right here, right now, I know myself.

I then spend the following days trying to figure out who I am all over again.

I am always and never the same.

I try to envision looking at myself today from some future vantage point and judging what I’ve done; in fact, judge what I’m doing. Will I be ashamed of this or proud of this?

I told a friend that I try and live my life with no regrets, but I’ve realized that’s a lie – not an intentional one, it’s just a worldly impossibility. I have regrets, both for the things I didn’t do (because the guilt would  far surpass the regret), and for the things I have, knowing the guilt I was about to feel was going to have to be bearable. I entered into both of these decisions willingly and I wonder how I chose just what amount of guilt I could tolerate or if it really was an arbitrary choice, the id’s way of flipping a coin. I regret both action and inaction and hold my guilt and regret as my own.

There’s a song entitled "Who I am Hates Who I’ve Been". There are days that I’d argue that who I am hates who I am, and I wonder how I got here. Every day I say and do and even consider things I never thought I would, and even disassociating myself causes me to look back and not recognize the person I am. And yet life is the culmination of all of our experiences, the combination of various mini-realities, of many incarnations of who we are. So with that I wonder if this "present me" needs to be doing (or not doing) what I am, if I’m required to live this incarnation to compete the puzzle of who I’ll be tomorrow. Or perhaps that’s a feeble justification to appease myself.

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