Some thoughts have been circling lately, about identity, perception, and how early we start being shaped by how we’re seen.
Not always through conflict. Sometimes through admiration. Expectation. Projection. Before we even understand who we are, the world has already decided what our skin means.
I read something recently that touches on that, gently. It doesn’t try to define identity, just to notice when it becomes something we carry instead of something we are.
It left me asking: What part of me is truly mine, and what part is just reflection?
