When am I most authentic?
This might be my last write up of 2022 (if I don’t talk music) and that’s quite fitting.
Because on the back end of trying to live and paying the bills I’ve had a thought on loop: When am I at my most authentic?
Shit, I ask myself that and I legitimately have no idea. Not because I don’t know when or why, do I know what I’m asking myself?
Worthy of acceptance or belief as conforming to or based on fact — Merriam-Webster
It’s a multifaceted introspection of how I understand myself and the different roles I engage in as a person — by choice or forcibly so.
If you’re think wow that’s pretty heavy to think about? Congratulations, you’re new to my writing.
So, when do I feel like I’m my honest self or close to it?
Perhaps it’s when I’m alone in my apartment, thinking about my décor?
When I’m among my family and they talk to like I’m still 7?
Is it when I’m in space with my friends and talking about stuff?
Maybe when I’m in my various chat groups talking about various topics?
Perhaps it’s when I’m visiting a museum and thinking about art?
