My entry for Weekly Wattpad Contest #46.

---------------------------------------------------

"Who are you?"

Everything around me was a hazy blur, figures and objects mere lumps, unrecognisable. I was alone, yet there was someone speaking. A humming like television static buzzed around me.

My mind grappled at the bits of information I possessed. I had no recollection of the date, nor where I was.

The voice spoke again, strangely familiar. "Who are you?"

The three words were said with such indifference, such boredom. It was undignifying to be spoken to as if I was a speck of dust on the tip of a polished shoe.

I thought about it. I knew who I was when it came to the basic formalities. I could remember my name and my family's names. Where I lived, what I liked and disliked. I recalled my favourite colour and my preferred style of clothing.

But a person is a complicated and intricate creature. How could I explain who I was with only a few words, with phrases pinned to me like labels? It seemed so oversimplified.

"I don't know," I whispered to the voice. "I don't know. I can't just tell you who I am."

The voice was silent and the buzzing turned from that of a beehive into a low hum.

"Then show me."

The ground beneath me sunk away and for a few horrifying seconds, I felt something similar to drowning.

I was back in my high school classroom, seated behind the cramped wooden desk. It was strange, seeing yourself from someone else's eyes.

You never truly understand how others saw you. You only thought you were perceived in the same way as you saw yourself. That was not the case.

The other me was standing in front of the class, perfectly in the middle as I always did. Not to close to the teacher's table but not too far either.

Her chin was raised and my hand itched to correct her tie that was a bit crooked. One foot was slight in front of the other as she shifted her weight, waiting patiently.

Her face didn't betray any emotions, but I recalled how nervous I was talking in front of large crowds, how my throat would turn dry and my tongue would feel uncomfortable in my mouth and how I would keep repeating the same sentences in my mind.

Sometimes I would even choose a random number to count to and back again. It never really helped the anxiety, but I thought it would.

I watch as the other me lifted her cards, fingers clutching it little too tightly. She started to speak, voice unwavering clear, and no one could ever guess that she didn't feel right at home.

Her posture seemed relaxed and her voice was just loud enough to grab the whole class's attention. She seemed completely confident in her abilities.

"Fake confidence," the voice remarked. "No one saw through the facade unless you wanted them to."

The other me finished her speech, smiling at the applause before returning to her seat. I could feel how her racing heart relaxed and the neutral mask slipped back onto her features.

In a flash of bright light, I was whisked away. This time the other me was hunched over my desk, papers littered around her in a simultaneously organised and messy manner.

Her hair had come undone from the braid and was hanging like wavy curtains on the sides of her face. Her gaze was focused on the notes before her as she read over them, again and again, trying to force them into her memory.

My eyes swept towards my closet, where a big box was stored, filled with certificates for academic achievements. Nothing more than empty words printed on paper.

"Your parents never expected perfect grades from you," the voice said. "Only you did. So many nights agonising over the possibility of a less than perfect score, for what?"

I clenched my jaw. "It was the one thing I was good at."

The study notes flew into the air, whizzing around me, flurrying and flapping, creating a whirlwind.

I could see my friends and the other me huddled together, laughing over some stupid pun I had made. Her head was resting on one of the other's shoulder and amusement sparkled in her eyes.

It had taken me half of my schooling career, but I had made true friends. The type that sent ridiculous memes over group chats and had an encyclopedia of inside jokes. The type that encouraged you and your ideas and dreams and would defend you at all costs.

"You're the type that would jump off the edges off the earth for those she cares about," the voice told me.

"Yes," I replied. "Even if my sarcasm sometimes hid that fact."

Like glass, the image before me shattered and this time I was the only me, no double ganger in sight. I didn't even need to look around to recognise my bedroom. I spent so much of my time there, enjoying the solitude.

Posters and photo cards of numerous animes and idols covered the walls. Books were crammed inside shelves, formed towers in the painted corners and gathered dust beneath the bed. Figurines of fictional characters stood next to collections of CDs and music albums, nestled between the volumes of manga.

I was flat on my back and headphones cushioned my ears. The music was much louder than needed. Each strum of the guitar and each thump of the drums beat with the rhythm of my heart, the vibrations bolting through my head.

I had many escapes from my daily life, but this was the one that made me feel the most alive. If felt as if the music and I merged into one, that the singer's voice was mine and that my very blood was pumping out the notes.

"Some would rather you exercise if adrenaline was what you're after," the voice remarked.

"This is better," I said. "Besides, I have the physical strength of a cooked noodle."

Once again I felt the ground swallow me up before I was tumbling down a rabbit hole like Alice. Instead of arriving in Wonderland to go on an adventurous journey, I was back where I started in the grey, shapeless room.

No less confused than I was previously, I asked, "What is this place?"

"This place is whatever you choose it to be," the voice answered. "Think of it as television, broadcasting only one channel."

I dragged my fingernails down my scalp. "My life isn't some show airing for entertainment."

"Quick, aren't you? "

"I've seen enough series to catch on."

A person walked towards me, the same person I stared at every morning in the mirror. I looked into those eyes forged of light blue water with traces of mint, circled by dark storm clouds and with specks of amber, autumn leaves floating about.

I was always told that I had unique eyes and came to love them dearly. More than the freckles painted across my nose and cheekbones. Angels' kisses, I called them.

The girl stopped before me and repeated her question in the same indifferent tone. "Who are you?"

What was the answer she wanted? That I was impatient and headstrong, that I was loyal and brutally honest, that I pretended to be confident until I wasn't pretending anymore? That I was a lover of fantasy, adored fictional characters and had a taste for hoodies and lace-up boots?

That I wanted to be someone great, someone important, someone who inspired others? That I had great ambitions, but no clue as to where to apply them to?

Her question implied that I was easy to sum up in a phrase, her tone saying that I was just one point on a checklist.

Yet there was a secret opportunity presented as well. A chance to reinvent myself, to take a good look at my flaws and virtues and try to find who I truly was.

Maybe the question wasn't "Who are you?" but rather "Who do you want to be?" And maybe I had an answer to that.

"Not everyone can be someone great, someone world changing. Maybe it's okay if you're not. I don't really know much about life, the universe and everything. It's not some game you get an instructions manual for. You just have to make it up as you go.

"Life can't be measured in success, in your wealth or your achievements. It's much more complicated and much more simple than that.

"Who I am? Well, that's easy. I am simply just plain, old me. And all I want is life's greatest gift."

The girl's lips twitch slightly as if fighting back a smile. "What, pray tell, may that be?"

"Nothing fancy and extravagant," I said. "Just mundane, content happiness. That's enough."

The other me nodded and stretched her arms to the side.

"If this is who you are, then that is who I want to be."

---------------------------------------------------

Total length: 1492 words.

Okay, who's ready for their existential crisis?