My name is Brooke Rowe, and
this is my story.
They say you show different
faces to different people. Your family, your friends, your lover. You act differently
because you want them to appear differently, you want them to see you in a
certain way. But does that mean you are a different person? Is the person my
family knows a different person my friends know? And if that’s the case then
which one is the real me?
I know the answer of course,
they all are, and they all are not. I can break each of these people down into
traits, responses, or views I do have, and those I am creating just to have an
effect on those around me. So if I change myself to have an effect on others
does that mean I am only the real me when I am alone? Of course not, because
even when I am alone I am trying to convince myself that I am a better person
than I really am.
When I joined
the army I formed a new face, new reactions to new stimuli. A man made a joke I
was offended by, I laughed and joked back. A man told me to do something I didn’t
want to do, I nodded and did what he asked. I heard a bang, I saw an enemy, I
responded with force, and anger.
I came
home, but after you’ve worn a face for months it begins to change you. And
faces you set down can’t be picked up again so easily. But the stimuli are
still there, as are the responses. I’m meant to be different here, I’m meant to
pretend I feel safe, but I don’t, I feel threatened. So I lash out with force,
and anger.
I try and
pick up new faces, ones that will fix the changes underneath. But there are
traits you pretend to have, and those that become a part of you. Your true
face. So maybe that is the only way to find your true face. To experience the
unknown, to be faced with new challenges and see how your instincts react. To
meet new people, and see how they affect you.
I say find
your true self, but as I said before you already know which traits are real and
which aren’t. But maybe that’s good, to be able to suppress the parts of
yourself you don’t like, and let the ones you do flourish. Or maybe instead of
finding our true selves we are finding a way to admit our true selves. And a
way to fix the parts that are broken.
I’m in a different
place now, a different world. And I’m surrounded by different people, people
who rely on me. And none of the faces I have are ready for this, or right for
this. And slowly I’ve realised that the people I’m with are seeing my true
face, or maybe I’m letting them see it. I don’t care, what matters is that for
the first time in a long time, even though everything is falling apart and
dying that I feel myself. As sick as that is. As ashamed as I am. But these
people, they need me. The real me. And I need them. And for as long as I can I
will protect them. Even if it kills me. And maybe one day, by staying with
them, I will be able to see the face they see, and it will be what I’ve always
wanted it to be. Me.
