Who Am I?

Anika Nambisan

Written by Anika Nambisan, Grade 9

Illustration by Katherine Chui

To all the people who feel the need to be something for someone else.

As I look in the mirror,

My reflection gazes back,

But what are my looks if they mean nothing?


I dig deeper into the mirror,

My pupils dilating,

As I try to find who I really am.


My hair black,

My eyes a chocolate brown,

My skin a sponge to the sun,

My melanin is surely strong.


But those traits do not make me,

But those traits are superficial,

But why do they mean so much?


I wished my hair was blonder,

My voice softer,

My skin clearer,

My walk filled with grace

I wish to be someone I am not,


Shorter,

Taller,

Rounder,

Slimmer,

Thicker,


When I dream adjust the things I don’t like,

The thickness of my eyebrows,

The pigment of my skin,


I change it all,

Until I realize,

I kind of like who I am.


I changed it,
Not for me,

But for the world,


To be accepted,

To be praised,

To be liked,


And with all that in mind,

It makes me think,

If I have changed myself so much,

For society to like me,

Who am I really?


Am I nice?

Am I kind?


Or have I become the person I hate,

Should I change myself?

Or is it too late?


My characteristics or my looks,

Perhaps I am waiting for my dream transformation,

Alas that only happens in books,


Maybe if I close my eyes,

I will have more friends than I can imagine,

I will be taller and stronger,

A better athlete,

Maybe sweeter,

Less sour,


But all my imagining has done,

Is making me cry.


When the tears pool at the floor,

I just wish I had to no longer,


Think about what I looked like,

I hate it all down to my drab eyes,

My body makes me cry.


Should I apologize?

To the people I’ve hurt,

I’m sorry I made you cry.


I think I’m mean,

I think I’m nice,


It’s just a perception,

A looking glass,

An illusion,


But it has be twisted,

I do not have a grip on this,


My child twisted fantasies,

Have me ruining the reality,

As the tears stream down my cheeks,

I wonder if they even notice me,


Why do I hate me?

How can I change me?

Why do I want to kill the voice inside of me,

To shut it out desperately,


It tells me,

If I give you a look inside of me,

Would you agree?


I’m not good enough,

Not tall enough,

Not pretty enough,

To be standing next to the people I am today.


With my perception of reality,

Will this be a question for eternity,

Until I find who I want to be,

But until then,

Who am I really?



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