No matter how hard one might wish and want to be someone else, one can only be one. One person, one individual, at a time. I can only be me. My head may tell me that I can be someone else if only I try hard enough. I can do my best to “fake it ’til I make it.” And still, I am only one person. One individual.

I am just me.

Me. Sad. Defeated. Some might say bereft.

I can scold myself from dawn until dusk. Call myself names. Take my inventory up and down and sideways. Find myself undeserving, stupid, and cowardly. And none of these mean spirited self judgments, deserving or not, will change the simple fact that I am only one. Me, myself, and I.

On another day, this same only me is brave, rejoicing, intelligent, and kind. On another day.

Still only one.

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