Forget the Varnish

What does it take to know a person; I mean really know them? At this point, I’m not sure. How can we really know someone else; what makes their mind tik like a clock or their heart flutter like a butterfly on steroids. How can we ever know someone else? I’m not entirely sure that it’s possible. I mean, I have been me for about 22 years now and I am only just beginning to figure out who I am. How could I possibly expect to know someone else to know me if I hardly even know who I am? But then again, I guess not everyone is like me. Some people know who they are; what they value, what they want to act like, what they want to do with their life. Maybe it’s easier for those people; maybe they are known by a lot of people.

But me, well I’m a bit of a nomad when it comes to identity. I drift here and there; whither and thither and flutter about. Some days I am the sweet girl, others I’m the bitch*. Some days I am an advocate of love, other days the only attitude I have towards love is one of scorn. For someone else to figure me and all of my nuances out would be a great feat.

I think that of all the people I know, of all my friends and family and acquaintances; I think of all of these people about one of them actually knows me really well. Only one of them knows who I am, but I can’t even tell you why. It’s not because this friend knows what my dreams and ambitions are, or because she knows that sometimes I laugh a lot because it’s a better alternative to crying. She just knows me. She can tell when something is wrong, or when I’ve fallen off of the narrow path. She knows what, deep down, I really want out of life, despite my endless frustrated rants on the subject. Sometimes, I think that she knows me better than I know myself. She is very wise, and I thank God almost every day for her friendship.

But how lonely is that? That out of all the people I know only one of them really knows who I am? Sometimes it’s really lonely, but it’s the price that a guarded heart pays. We protect ourselves from others and in return, few people are able to break down the walls that we have built.

I that maybe that is why I like to write so much. Because when I write I feel like part of me is on paper; a raw and public display of the inner workings of my soul. Anne Lamott once said that people write because it makes them feel like they have a place in the world. They are published, in some way shape or form, and therefore they exist to the world. Writing gives us meaning, and a sense that someone out there will read our words, however eloquently written, and know a part of us.

She pretty much hit the bull’s eye there; at least for me. Paper is a friend who knows me well, and he has never judged me. He just takes it all in, and never asks those annoying psychological questions in a reckless attempt to get to the bottom of what I am ‘feeling.’ I can change who I am from one day to the next, but the underlying characteristics of my writing never change. Maybe someday I’ll figure out who exactly it is that I am, but for now I’m almost content with this open fluid concept of me. Alanis Morissette wrote it well:

I hate the world today
You're so good to me I know but I can't change
I tried to tell you but you look at me like maybe
I'm an angel underneath; innocent and sweet
Yesterday I cried; Must've been relief to see the softer side
I can understand how you'd be so confused
I don't envy you; I'm a little bit of everything
all rolled into one

I'm a bitch I'm a lover
I'm a child I'm a mother
I'm a sinner I'm a saint
I do not feel ashamed
I'm your hell I'm your dream
I'm nothing in between
you know you wouldn't want it any other way

So take me as I am
This may mean you'll have to be a stronger man
Rest assured that when I start to make you nervous
and I'm going to extremes; Tomorrow I will change
And today won't mean a thing

I'm a bitch I'm a lover
I'm a child I'm a mother
I'm a sinner I'm a saint
I do not feel ashamed
I'm your hell I'm your dream
I'm nothing in between
you know you wouldn't want it any other way

Just when you think, you got me figured out
The season's already changin'
I think it's cool; you do what you do
And don't try to save me

I'm a bitch I'm a lover
I'm a child I'm a mother
I'm a sinner I'm a saint
I do not feel ashamed
I'm your hell I'm your dream
I'm nothing in between
you know you wouldn't want it any other way

I'm a bitch, I'm a tease
I'm a goddess on my knees
When your hurt; when you suffer
I'm your angel undercover
I've been numb; I'm revived
Can't say I'm not alive
You know I wouldn't want it any other way


photo via (we heart it)

*please excuse my use of this particular term in this post. I really couldn't find a better one