They Think, Therefore I Am

A thought popped into my mind the other night as I was drifting off to sleep.

A thought about how we exist as different versions of ourselves in the minds of those who have experienced us. And as such, I began questioning the validity of each of those different versions.

If you were to bring all those people together, how much of their testimonies would align, if at all? How much would have remained unchanged — a timeless essence of the whole (of who you are)? How much would have evolved beyond recognition — beyond their recognition?

That’s when I realized, and I mean truly realized, that I exist as multiple versions of myself.

That’s when I realized, truly realized, the weight of what that meant.

In the minds of those who’ve known me, I exist solely for them.

For their experience of me. For their pleasure or displeasure. For their comfort of discomfort.

In the minds of those who’ve known me, I exist as a piece of the puzzle. All of which, when put together, make up the whole — my whole.

Except I’m not entirely sure what that whole looks like.

Because all I’ve ever known myself to be; all I’ve ever existed as, has been all the separate pieces.

And so, if I exist because others experience me, what becomes of me when their experience of me comes to an end?

While those versions of me remain frozen in time in their minds, what becomes of those versions from my vantage point, as the object being experienced?

Who am I outside the role of object? Outside the role that was catered to the observer of each version; to the experiencer of each piece?

If all I’ve ever been, thought, and done has been to please, appease, or displease others; to fit into the molding of my difference pieces, then how much of my life have I truly had a hand in shaping?

How much of the whole has been under the influence of others and their pieces in their possession?

And so, when a new whole materializes, what of those pieces?

In this space between, is where I’ve lost myself.

In this space between, is where I’ve found myself.

It’s where I’ve come to reconcile with the pieces that have remained, those that have withered away, and those that have flourished into existence with the grace of time.

In the minds of those who have known me, I exist for them.

They carry a piece and see it as the whole picture when the truth of the matter is, it’s a whole; a whole picture in and of itself. Theirs for the keeping.

Whereas for me, I’m coming to terms with what it means to simultaneously exist as both a piece and a whole.

To pick up my brush and contribute to the masterpiece that is me.

My version of me. All versions of me.

Because they all exist; past, present, and whatever the future ones look like.

And there’s more than enough room for them all.

Because my whole is greater than the sum of my parts.