Anything

 Who am I, but one human who exists on a planet surrounded by heartbreak, war and pain. I wonder, who am I but a fragile green blowing in the wind, willing itself not to crack, hoping its roots hold for just a moment longer. 

When I was younger, I would lose myself in an un-reality that spiraled until all sense of self was gone. Who am I? What am I? What is an "I". What is a being? Is being me real? What is reality? Time, space, imagination. Is anything physical? Is anything something? 

I would question until my sense of self dissipated to nothing. 

I am still struggling to figure out, at 32, who I am to be when I grow up. Nothing is as I planned as a teen. Nothing exists in the same way. Colonization and its global horrors have built a society that pushes normal humans down and keeps the rich in power. 

As we know, I did everything I was meant to do. I did well in school, put myself through college while working, served a Christian mission, graduated, worked. I was an uncomplaining drone and the Empire had complete control. Now, with school debt and burn-out, I wonder what I could have done to escape the monotony.

There is nothing more I want than to add to this world, to help people. To pull away from what we have come to accept in society and government, to re-indigenousize lives so we can live in peace instead of living just to work. 

I am starting a journey. I am going to try to write stories. I am going to try to create art.  I am going to try to be the calming anchor my childhood self was searching for.  Join me.