The Lost Identity
Author: Hannah Rumson
The Lost Identity
“Hello, my name is Skylar, Skylar Blake.” I said when I stared at my reflection in the mirror. But somehow, it did not seem to be my usual self staring back. It didn’t seem to be right. I did not look as I usually do. I kept on smiling and repeating myself in front of the mirror, but it was no use. What had happened? It had seemed that over-night I had lost myself and I had no clue who I am. I slowly turned on the cold water tap. I watched as the water trickled onto the surface of the sink. I then cupped my hands and collected water which I then continuously splashed over my face. But again, it was no use. I looked in the mirror and I could not even recognise the face staring back into my eyes. “Who are you?” I whispered “Who am I?”
It had taken me a while, but I had finally come to realise who I am. Impossible. That’s what it is because I am not myself. Neither am I someone else, for it really is impossible. I was a collage of characters. A collection of image and personality traits which had combined to from the body which I had taken refuge in. These were the characters that were influential and inspirational. Characters from a variety of genres of books and films. I was as strong as Hulk, as curious as Lucy from Narnia, as thoughtful as Jay Gatsby, had as much hope and skill as Katniss from The Hunger Games and many other characters which gave me something. If I wrote them all down, I could be here a while. Time is one thing I know we don’t have much of. I was taught this by the film ‘In Time’ which stared Justin Timberlake and Amanda Seyfred. Music was also something which heavily influenced me. It can change my mood in an instant. One minute I’m on a high, next thing I am depressed. (This occurs without the aid of music so I ban myself from any ‘depressing’ music) These moods can stay for different amounts of time. I am never just normal. People say that I am suffering from what is known as Bipolar Disorder. Many people have told me to see a doctor about it, but what are they going to say? They probably think that I am just exaggerating and tell me that it is teenage hormones and is only temporary. All they would do is give me some medication to stabilize my mood and I would prefer not to have any. I am getting through it anyway. First I need to find out who I really am. But there is always something spinning around my head, ‘Is it too late’?
I sat on the chair in a blank room. The walls were white and blank. The air was occupied with white noise. My job was to fill it with things that were me, the real me. The first thing I did was write my name in big bold letters on the wall, for this was one of the only things which I knew was me. It would be a long process so I turned up the music and started on what would become my own therapy of self-identity.
"This extract remains the exclusive property of the author who retains all copyright and other intellectual property rights in the work. It may not be stored, displayed, published, reproduced or used by any person or entity for any purpose without the author's express permission and authority."
Please rate and comment on this work
The writer appreciates your feedback.
Book overall rating (No. of ratings:
Would you consider buying this book?Yes