Who Am I?

Who am I really? I can tell you lots of things about myself. Apples are my favorite fruit and apply pie is my favorite dessert. I have freckles, but none on my face. I like to read magazine articles, and not just the foofy ones, but not full blown books. I have a boyfriend. He's the third of my lifetime and the best so far. I wish I could sing better, but I'm not very good so I listen to others instead and imagine I'm the one singing. My eyes are hazel. I love cats and hate dogs. I can draw people well, but not much else, even though my boyfriend says its all pretty good. I work for a fashion design firm even though I don't always worry about my own clothing. I give my old clothing away to goodwill. I want to be a good person. But how do I prove I want to be a good person?

Who am I really? What does any of this mean? Am I only the things that make me unique? If so, I'm mostly nothing. Is it this precise combination of traits that makes me someone? Is it my soul that makes me who I am? Does my body matter then? Would I still be me in a different body? Who am I really?

I was born, I grew up, and one day I will likely die. I try not to think about that. I'm really not afraid of much, but I hate bats. I am usually optimistic, but sometimes I wonder if life means anything. I go to church, but it's hard to truly believe. I pray, but it's hard to know I'm being heard. I draw and sometimes paint. I draw people I've never met, faces that only exist in my mind, though perhaps they do exist in real life and I just don't realize it. Who are they? Are they anything? Am I nothing more than someone else's work of art? Would that really be a bad thing?

Who am I? Just another girl asking all the questions that everyone else has asked before.