Who I Am

There is a part of me that always has doubts. Do you like me because of who I am, or for some other reason. I don’t know where that comes from.

Possibly because as a young child I already knew that people were not always who they appeared to be.

Possibly because I have been surrounded by cynical people so much of my adult life.

Possibly because of a hundred reasons. I wonder, are you being nice to me because it is good for your business? Or because I have (well, actually had) money? Or because I am so and so’s mother, or wife, or friend?

It is my problem. It must stem from some lack of self esteem, a feeling that I do not measure up all on my own. That is embarrassing to even think of.

Because of this I love strangers. People who have no idea who I am. I love being anonymous. In some strange way it validates who I am.