Creative Writing Who Am I

Who am I? This is a question we have all faced many times, from a multitude of sources. Ever since elementary school when I was asked to write about my family and myself, I disliked self-reflection. This was in part because I did not have the vocabulary to present my thoughts and majorly due to the fact I was scared of what would come of a true reflection of who I am. So enough of that, who am I? I am phlegmatic emotion is not a thing I have a capacity for. I am always asked, “Are you upset about something?” “Why don’t you get as excited as everyone else about things?” and my answer is simply “I don’t”. I have never experienced grief. Even as a little kid, at the ripe age of 9, my grandfather died. When I was sat down and told by my parents that he had passed the night before I simply said “okay”, looked to my dad and said “you look like you’re pretty upset about this, do you want me to take care of you?” This was not just a case of being too young to understand, I have had best friends die even in the same room and other family die as well and still failed to ever feel sad about it. I feel like I need to be stronger than everyone else in an emotional sense, because if I fall apart then there is nothing there to keep everything together.

I used to have extremely low self-esteem and friends with very high self-esteems so naturally this caused me assume a superficial mask of high self-esteem. But as time passed my self-esteem grew and this false high self-esteem bloomed into borderline narcissism. I am self-obsessed and care too much about how I look dress and act, but my self-obsession doesn’t affect me caring about others. Also as to not contradict myself I feel I should add I do not view caring as an emotion but rather a natural instinct.

I feel uncomfortable when I’m not with my own “squad”, or group of friends. In these situations I tend to put up a “bubble” and stay out of conversation. I enjoy observing people and will wait until I know I have something worth adding to the group before joining in. But when this bubble is popped, by someone pulling me into conversation or coming up to me, I am outgoing and some would even say funny.

I am a leader. I am a piece of coal in a world full of rocks, when pressure gets high most people crack and I, well I shine. If a situation calls for someone to step up and take charge I cannot refuse, especially if it means I’d be helping someone or a group. This is something I have learned about myself fairly recently. I have an aura about myself when I take charge; it is that of former great leaders like Nelson Mandela and Hitler, those who even on seemingly futile platform are able to still gain followers. There is just something about me when I take charge that demands both respect and obedience, even as a generally passive and not very confrontational person. So who am I? I’m