Categorization is the death of self

Sometimes, I feel as if I think I am more, than I am. That is nonsense. Complete and utter nonsense. I am exactly who I think I am and nothing less. Every funny look, every whispered word (good or bad) makes me feel as though I need to perform now, more than ever, or even stop the “performance”. Even if I am not performing anything and finally felt like I reached pure integrity. Never forget: There is always something to be changed or altered. I could never find so-called bliss and happiness or peace with anyone, not my friends, my family or even a stranger, who surely could have no idea who I am or at least think I am. I can always do better. So, I try to find another approach. A new creative hobby like writing? To cliché, not niche enough. Perhaps a new guided meditation to unlock my true self and clear my chakras? Tiring and performative, because who am I to try that out? A wellness goddess like Haley Bieber? No, I don’t think so. Or possibly even changing my appearance? Well then it must just be a phase. Who am I to be different? I am just a basic girly and that’s okay...I don’t need to change to be liked! Basic isn’t bad right? It is if you are judged by the niche-police of your peers.

 In today’s age, everyone is put into categories. I suppose it has always been that way, but not in the way that it is nowadays. If you wear Brandy Melville and have visited certain cities in Italy, Spain or Greece. You are put into one category. If you listen to Lana del Ray, you are put into one category but depending on if your favourite movie is Lolita or Black Swan, you are put into a Subcategory. And yes, in that way, being seen as basic is the death of your independency and personality. Sucks for you, now you need to listen to Taylor Swift, rather than Fiona Apple because otherwise, you could be performative. If I did that, I would be seen as fake. I should appreciate my basicness and live with it because that is what I am meant to be. But I don’t like that very much. 

I like being myself. I like being, as one could put it, wanna-be. My pink highlights are gone, I try to let my skin sit without makeup, and I haven’t read Sylvia Plath in a long time. I like to go into the forest, sit beside my favourite little stream, breath in the fresh air and charge my crystals, while wearing H&M Activewear. And in that moment, I find peace. Not because I finally feel like the most unique version of myself that I can be, but because I am indifferent. It might be because I left my phone at home and I don’t have any other “creative” input and maybe it is just the rural way of sitting, and being alone with yourself and your thoughts, because that is the purest form or self. But who am I to decide that? It’s not like I am a wellness chick or witchy girl. I am just basic.