I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately about the different masks we wear. The facades we present to the world.
At work. At home. With friends. With strangers.
I suppose it’s human nature to adapt to different surrounds.
But I don’t want to do that at the expense of authenticity.
So this week, I decided to re-familiarise myself with myself.
Who I am.
What I love.
In twenty minutes. No edits allowed. Unfiltered.
So here goes.
I am complex. Multilayered.
I love second hand bookstores. Dance floors.
A clean house. A dirty mind.
I love words. Lyrics. Sonnet 116. And people who can appreciate all three.
I love Cloudstreet. Love in the time of Cholera. Kanye.
I am vulnerable. Some call it over-sensitive.
I love people with broken pasts.
I love letters. The real kind. The kind that live in a shoebox under my bed.
Chewed nails. Crooked teeth. Messy hair. Mistakes. Character.
I love meeting people who ‘get’ me.
I am a bit naughty.
I love expensive vodka. Cheap wine. Rooftop bars. Gossip magazines.
The first coffee.
Singing John Farnham in the car.
Scary movies. Spicy food. Spooning.
Sandy hair. Salty skin. Sleeping.
I am resilient. Romantic. A realist.
I love early morning runs around foreign cities.
I love people. Their honest moments. Intimacy.
Saturday mornings, sans alarm. Tangled sheets.
Instagram notifications from my favourite people.
When people say “I missed you” and I know they mean it.
I’m a part-time extrovert. A some-times introvert. A full-time over thinker.
I love good morning texts. Eye contact.
Alone time. List making.
I love catching up with someone after many years and when it’s completely not awkward wondering why I was so anxious about it.
I am a Queenslander. A lawyer. A bad singer. A wannabe dancer. A fierce woman. An irredeemable daydreamer. A creature of habit and organisation. A lover of spontaneity. A homebody with a welcome case of wanderlust. A people person, a loner. A work in progress.
I am, I love.