Have you ever wanted to be somebody else?

I have.

Irrevocably me. Photo by Tjokro Aminoto

I wish I was her. She is skinny, feminine, pretty, and has a good sense of fashion. She always looks so beautiful in everything she wears, and she has the most gorgeous smile. Men would go head over heels to get her.

She has a prestigious job. She is kind and the way she talks – oh, so soft and lovely. She is a little bit shy, but that what makes her so attractive.

I wanted to be her.

I wanted to be feminine. I wanted to have that great sense of fashion. Instead of laughing loudly and giving meaningless jokes, I wanted to stay calm and release a sweet laugh. I wanted to stop talking too much.

Frankly saying, she is everything I am not.

But truth to be said, I don’t want to be her. I want to be my constructed idea of who she is. I don’t adore her per se, I adore my idea of her.

Being yourself, finding yourself, and becoming yourself are the hardest things to do. First, you need to know who you really are. Second, you need to know who you really want to be. Third, you need to know how to be yourself without giving a damn about what everyone else thinks.

Looks like a lot of work, is it?

I love music. I like singing. I find it hard to believe that I would never become a good singer. Well, I guess I would never become a singer at all, but you know, I would love to have a good voice. A voice that my friends, and even strangers, could listen to and be entertained.

I adore fashion. Or maybe not. I love seeing my friends dressing up and look so pretty and charming. But I don’t give a second look about how I dress. Today, I grabbed my five-year-old blue jeans and my dark grey jumper and sprinted to the tram stop, as usual. I want to look presentable, but sometimes it’s just too much effort.

I listen to my friends’ stories about working in cafes, retails, and professional companies and I want to become each one of them. But I hate morning shifts, I have no sense of fashion and I don’t want to spend my life living behind a desk looking at some weird statistics (this is in response to an accountant friend).

The easiest thing to do is just to be myself, but ironically it’s also the hardest thing.

An old high school friend from Canada had just recently visited Melbourne and we talked about how far we have changed from three years ago.

“I was shocked, and amazed when you declared publicly that you are a writer,” he said. “It took courage and you’ve finally found what your passion is.”

Not even 24 hours later another friend suddenly texted me, “I’m jealous and proud of you. You know what you want to do. I’m 25 and still clueless.”

You know, it’s both easy and hard to becoming me.

First, I love being me. I love writing and over time I get panic attacks if I do not write every day. I love to read. I adore stories.

Sadly, I also doubt my ability, and I need constant reminder of, “You need to believe in your own writing.” I still hear this reassurance weekly.

Finding yourself is a pilgrimage. A quest. A journey. It’s meant to be both painful and beautiful. But that’s the only way to live your life.

Cos once you have discovered the beauty of being you, you would let go the possibility of becoming everyone else. And oh, everyone else is taken anyway.

Have you even wanted to be somebody else? Share your stories in the comment section below.