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Out of all the experiences that I’ve had this year, if there’s something someone told me that has stayed, it’s the fact that what I am to you, what I am, to the world is so very different from who I really am. It’s simple. But so very difficult to comprehend.
I don’t even know if you’re getting this. But try to repeat this very slowly:
I am (your name) but (your name) is not me.
I am Srishti but Srishti is not me. ‘Srishti’ is various kinds of people. Sometimes, she’s a friend, the other times, a daughter. Sometimes, snooty or humble, concerned or carefree, the other times, fun or serious, troublemaker or solution finder and so on. ‘Srishti’ is your perception of me.
She is the happy travel blogger you see, the person who doesn’t shut up on her stories, but she is alive in your reality as your perception. She is the labels you put on her, the adjectives you’ve given her and the conclusions you draw of her. But she’s not it.
I am Srishti but Srishti is not me.
I am all those labels but that’s not me.
The ‘me’ is the soul/ subconscious/ mind, the one that’s suppressed beneath these worldly labels and the perception/ interpretation/ image of me. “So when is it that I’m really me?”, I asked.
“When you’re asleep.”