The People Pedlar
“Be yourself”, they said.
I still draw borders the way an old friend showed me in the fifth grade. Almost a decade later, I still refuse to change and cling to this simple gesture that reminds me of the first day of school.
I’ve heard people say how life is like a game of chess — how a simple decision can make or break our trajectory. But I believe it’s more than decision-making. Life compares to chess in how there are so many combinations that make up a person’s personality that eventually gives way to their identity.
It often feels hypocritical to emulate strangers’ idiosyncrasies in a world that encourages individuality for its uniqueness. But isn’t change signified by the same when it comes to cultures and traditions? Doesn’t a part of evolution concern the same amalgamation — a moment where the line blurs between differences as one picks up the others’ mannerisms?
I was often told that growing up was a form of exploration, a gradual process of embracing your identity, the path to discovering oneself. However, with each passing day, I become others more than me. I have discovered delicate nooks and crannies of the world instead of myself. On certain days when the monotony is binding, I feel like a pedlar with tokens of strangers and friends I’ve collected over the years. Peculiar words, half-smiles and mannerisms — I have it all and I walk around with it, watching as another person picks it up.
People often tend to document life in photos, immortalising moments they’ll look back on with pride and joy. These tokens are my way of remembering people. I forget faces and sometimes names, but these tiny habits I pick up keep the memories young too. It baffles me just how versatile a person can be. We’re not unique by ourselves, but the combinations of these tokens that we keep safe — they are. And growing up doesn’t feel like a personal journey anymore — it’s more of a communal trek, we learn from each other and grow, sometimes we fall and it’s often someone else who helps us up. We make mistakes so someone else, maybe a stranger never has to.
“Be yourself”, they say. I am not inherently myself. I am they and countless other friends and strangers that have been archived in the back of my mind. But so are they. A collection of walking dreams and habits and quirks. The complexity is stunning and the randomness of it all — humbling.
Thoughtfully yours,
D
Originally published on https://myrandomspecificthoughts.wordpress.com/2023/07/16/13466/
