It's funny, because there's been a reoccurring theme in my life lately. In the books I read, the people I know, the questions I have. The concept of identity can be such a crisis. I couldn't tell you what makes Teresa, Teresa. I'm not unhappy with that, however. I've only had 17 years with myself, and my slate is still very clean. I strongly believe that experiences shape a large portion of a person, and I haven't nearly gone through enough to know what's rooted deeply underneath it all. However, I'm grateful for the time that I have left to learn about myself (hopefully it's a large number of years!) Come back to me again with this question, and on my death bed I'll tell you what part of Teresa I've carried with me until the end.
Friday, April 1, 2011
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