Over the years I was a lot of things:
a student, a basketball player, a punk, a rebel, a drunk, a football player, a hippy, a sports fanatic, a golfer, a pilot, a gamer, a metalhead, a health fanatic, a hiker, an anti-fascist, an atheist, an altar boy, an investor, a townie, a piston head, a Twitter persona, a drummer, a runner, a cook, a gourmet connoisseur, a philosopher, a baseball statistician, a gambler, a husband, a widower, a corporation brown noser, a pothead, a hipster, a skinhead, a racer, a biker, a poet, a painter, a photographer, an antique collector, a gardener, a political party operative, a volunteer, a grifter, a homeless, a psych ward patient, a globalist, a nationalist, a cynic, a stoic, an addict.
A lot of those concurrently with each other.
A lot of times just to be a member of some group, any group, to belong somewhere, to have some easily recognized identity, to belong to something bigger than just me.
And when during all that I was me?
I don’t feel a need anymore to belong to any group or any movement. Am I ready to be myself?