I'm An Odd Shaped Puzzle Piece

Since the beginning of time, humans have wondered who they are. Sure, I don’t know this for a fact, but it doesn’t seem much of a stretch to believe that Mr. Neanderthal, between being eaten by a dinosaur and inventing the wheel, was pondering his purpose on this planet. It’s what humans do. It’s what separates us from dogs, who would only realise that their purpose consists of eating, sleeping and scratching inappropriate places when we have company.

In the modern age, an age where we want everything now or faster, we define people by quick, easily identifiable groups. This makes the whole thing simple for all involved. If you wear black, you’re a goth. Burberry equals chav. You can be upper, middle or working class, a geek or a nerd or one of the cool kids. You can be defined by your gender, age, colour, religion, weight or that fact that your nose isn’t as straight as the guy’s next to you. If you’ve just checked to see if the person next to you does indeed have a straighter nose, you’ll be called vain or self conscious, put into the appropriate group and treated the appropriate way.

This is all well and good, but where do I fit in? Like our caveman friend, I too would like to know who I am. Which piece am I in the great puzzle we call life?

I’m a white male, but that group, whilst being both racist and sexist, is fairly inclusive to a lot of people. I follow no religion, only my own code of ethics. If pushed, I’d put ‘Jedi’ on a census but only because I want to see it recognized as a religious choice. I’m too poor to be middle class but not poor enough to be working class. I don’t wear enough black to be a goth. I smile too much to be emo, but I enjoy the music. I’m not anorexic and I’m not a lard bucket. I play computer games and read comics but I also enjoy the sunlight and the company of females which rules me out of true geek status.

I’m vain sometimes. I’m angry sometimes. I’m kind and I’m cruel. I’m a pessimist trapped in the body of an optimist. I’m funny sometimes. I’m too serious sometimes. With the risk of sounding like an Alanis Morissette, I’m drunk, sober, short, healthy, lost, broke, poor, grounded, sane, overwhelmed and hopeful.

In the end, I have to conclude that I am nobody, belong nowhere. I don’t exist.
But also, in the end, so is everybody, unless someone is around.

We can all say that we are brave or smart or a Romeo, but without anyone around, all we are is potential. The person you interact with, defines you. If you’re having a conversation with Stephan Fry, the most intelligent person to have ever lived, you’ll come across as dumb. Next to Jade Goody, everyone is a certified genius.

So here’s the deal: I won’t put myself into a group or try and fit in anywhere. You can do that for me. When we first meet, and shake hands, decide for yourself who I am. I won’t mind. I’ll be doing the same to you. And, no matter where you place me, I’ll just meet someone else who’ll redefine me again.

So until I meet you, I’ll just keep on being nobody.

:D

http://mydyingrose.deviantart.com/art/The-Missing-Piece-83095750