Who am I?

The ramblings of someone who has no idea of their place in this world, and may be a narcissist.

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An excerpt of some words I wrote when I couldn't sleep:

Do you ever wonder the role you play in other people's lives? Like how many times has someone else brought me up in conversation as "this girl" or even referred to me by name? "Julia's daughter" or "her older sister"?

It's really none of my business, but I'm so curious the impact I have. Does that person remember that I let them over in traffic? Does the barista at Starbucks remember me by my drink-- grande triple iced almond milk latte, please? Does my tattoo artist complain about me? What stories and narratives are floating around the world about me?

Would I be pleasantly surprised at the impacts I've mad or would I shutter with shame?

I can name specific instances in which I directly impacted those around me. Times I know what I said rang true to someone else. But what do those people's friends, parents, therapists think of me? How large do my actions ripple?

Do I create blessings or curses? How many strangers have fallen in love with the way I look? Romanticized my freckles, and blond hair, the confident way I walk and talk? How many people have dismissed me, walking by unbothered, unobservant? And why do I care?

If I was a character in a novel, how would the author describe me? Would I be the villainess or the heroine? Would they romanticize every odd trait, or would I be ostracized? I guess it depends on who's narrative it is.

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Isn't it weird that we've never seen ourselves?

Photos are always in the past. Mirrors are reversed. No one has ever seen their true self. Only other people can see us how we truly are.