Paint Me

People shape people. I am as a slab of clay, or perhaps a blank canvas – white, emotionless – patiently waiting for the next mark someone is bound to leave on me. As I interact and develop relationships, another casual toss of paint splatters itself across my personal masterpiece. It doesn’t ruin the canvas, but instead improves it. Family, acquaintances, peers, strangers, church leaders, lovers, and friend all mark their territories cross my canvas - carefully entitled “individuality”. I am made up of the scribbles, names, neat strokes, labels, and decorative swirls that people have branded me with. With that thought in mind, it is sufficient to say that individuality does not exist. When one truly reflects on their inner self and ponders the origin of that – it is realized that to be completely unique is impossible. The bits and pieces of people you associate with fit themselves into the massive puzzle-like structure of your soul – and it is there where you find out who you are. How did I become what I am? I have become what I am because of you.