When asked to describe myself, I am at a loss for words. Normally, I settle for association: I am my brother’s sister and my parent’s daughter. I like certain things and enjoy certain hobbies; this is how I describe myself. No one truly knows me. I hide behind screens and silent work. I hide my voice in class and do not talk unless I am talked to, eluding conversation with ease. I stay behind my unspoken words typed onto a screen late at night. Allotting myself as someone else’s is easier than letting someone know me, giving that person the responsibility of owning one of my many titles. I am someone’s friend; I am someone’s classmate; I am nothing without the people that surround me. I have no title without the people around me. If I was not someone’s friend, classmate, child, sister, or acquaintance who am I? I am me, but how do I understand who ‘me’ is? I do not know how to describe myself. On the first days of school, I rely on people around me to give me the characteristics to write on paper. I know what I am not: I am not artistic; I am not theatrical; I am not comical. I am mundane and bland. I have crafted a personality that is a combination of every person I have ever met, yet none of it is truly mine. I am described as smart, kind, or overachieving. I don’t see myself as these things. I see myself as odd, selfish, weak, and stupid. I would never tell anyone that, because putting yourself down is not consequenceless. You say one negative thing about yourself, and any person who hears is telling you, “No you’re not!” As if I can’t just be in a melancholy mood. I am not excusing myself from this narrative if that shows you just how hypocritical I am. Maybe that is a start. I am hypocritical. Hypocritical doesn’t have a positive connotation, but it’s a start.