I am a new person; I am a blank slate, and what anguish it can be. When everything is. Everything you wanted to be now is and there is nothing to complain about except the hollowness of your own being. What anguish it is; what sick, ungrateful, insensitive, apathetic, anguish it is.
I am a new person because the person I was has completed their journey. All their goals and wants and desires have been brought to fruition either by their own hand, by their perseverance, or by the passage of time itself and I can claim none of their merit or toils.
The person who I was only ever wanted one thing; a million sub-wishes stemmed from this one thing, but it was only ever one thing. Independence. I wanted freedom. I wanted to support myself. I wanted to lift the burden of my material well-being from off my parents’ shoulders. I wanted to stand alone. And now I do.
But now that I do I have found my folly. I never thought passed the achievement of this one singular goal. What do I want to do as my own person? So focused was I on simply becoming independent that I never considered what I wanted to do with it and how I would function within it.
There are moments when I step backwards and the person who I was experiences the conditions in which the person that I am functions in and the realization of fulfillment is magical. Those moments are brief and hollowness returns swiftly. There is a numbing paranoia that I am wasting my life and opportunities away, unproductive minute by unproductive minute.
Being a blank slate in search of myself isn’t so terrible though. It’s an opportunity in and of itself; a chance to learn and grow and a chance to improve. There is inherent hope in a new start.