Who am I?
By Eva Aghekyan
September 5th 2012
This is indeed a rather extensive and onerous thing to ask an individual. I feel as if placed on the spot; suddenly the most fundamental question of my existence seems impossible to answer simply due to its broad and infinite nature. So much can be said about my character, that I sincerely have no idea where to begin. The one thing I can say with the wholeness of my heart is that I don't particularly know who I am yet; I can only attempt to elaborate on what I am like. What in this world evokes me, what I enjoy doing, what I've gone through, what my beliefs are and what I favor/disfavor amongst a multitude of divergent elements are what truly define me. But even these elements do not remain static. They can change and most probably will change ; so I am being asked this question and ask myself the same question with a great deal of wonder and oddly enough - fear. Who am I, really? But I can state the undeniable facts for now just as an introduction to what can turn out into becoming a 1000 page novel. My name is Eva Aghekyan. I am a mature 17 year old nihilistic atheist and live in the dire and dreary suburbs of Maple, Ontario. I am 5 feet 7 inches, have large brown eyes and medium length black wavy hair. I was born in Armenia and live with my two parents whom I love unconditionally. My life had always been rather difficult; and I have struggled to fit in with people ever since I was put in Kindergarten. I suffer from a mental illness quite possibly induced by my inclination towards deep disconsolate thought and the severity of a crippling low self-esteem.
I will start off by saying that I am a consistently developing person and have evolved a tremendous amount. Of course I was the same in terms of aesthetics, but unambiguously different in a purely psychological sense. Despite the positive changes that have occurred within me, inadequacy and a great deal of idiosyncrasies have been present in my life and literally shun my potential of being something other than the misanthropic cynical disaster than I am today. I am tragically flawed and plagued with a demoralizing mental impotence that weakens me to an unimaginable extent, albeit it is something that does not define who I am as a person whatsoever, it is only something I happen to be afflicted with. I am the epitome of melancholia and of disarray, and am quite content with being so as I feel significantly more creative with these temperaments for reasons I am not exactly sure of. I prefer observing people rather than speaking to them. To me, socializing is exhausting and requires a great deal of energy that I do not have- it's like having to perform and I don't have the freedom to be myself and do not feel comfortable around others. I primarily enjoy being alone and dread the thought of putting on a fake smile and pretending all is well when it isn't. I've noticed that this is how everyone is expected to act; content. Happiness is normal. Anything deviant from average conduct and thought is almost immediately labelled as weird, crazy and freakish; merely because the latter does not understand and takes no time to consider the circumstances of the individual. I have miniscule tolerance for ignorant, selfish and cruelly judgemental people who speak on plain terms. The majority of our human race sees life in a very black and white context. All good, or all bad. I can only imagine how awful it must feel to have such a vapid worldly perspective. I am infatuated with psychology and aspire to become a psychologist in the future. It is a great interest of mine to discover and truly understand why humans do the things they do and why the mind works the way it does.
Where there is imagination and ability to feel and articulate that imagination, no matter how it is expressed, there is art. Writing is one of the many endearing forms of art. Literature speaks the grizzly truth of the human condition and has the power to evoke emotional response from the reader so long as it is written well and introspectively. My favourite novelists include; Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Ernest Hemingway, Anton Chekhov, Leo Tolstoy, Charles Bukowski, Sylvia Plath and Oscar Wilde. Writing is my favourite hobby. In fact I have my thoughts written practically everywhere; on note pads, in my phone, word documents, on the palms of my hand, on tables, regular papers, napkins and published on the internet for all to read and criticize. A blank sheet of paper is my canvas and a pen my paintbrush. I cannot have a day go by without writing. It is such a wonderful way to let sour emotions and feelings go. Writing is therapeutic to me, the only thing dear to me. When I was trapped in an abominable bell jar, writing saved me. It is my one special passion; my escape from normal tragic life. I tend to see the dark side in things and my opinions reflect that. I am a highly skeptical person and question everything; reason being that I seek truth. I am not a sheep; I do not follow the herd, and cannot be enslaved by the whims of others. I am not subordinate to any "God". I am a freethinker. I also do not complain about things which I need not subject myself to.
I am a sensitive girl, and have been so ever since I was old enough to understand all of which surrounded me. I am forever changing until the time of my death. Every day I learn and discover something new about myself. My mind is like a spinning vortex; like a tangled ball of yarn. My thoughts are endless and crush me. I feel terribly inconsequential and dull. I fear that I am boring, and that I will get absolutely nowhere in life. I feel as if my future will be doomed and I will remain unhappy just as I am today. All of it my thoughts are incredibly unsettling. Sometimes I awake in the morning with such a wretched heavy ominous feeling; as if 200 pounds of lead is resting in my skull and on these mornings I want nothing more than to just go back to sleep; and to stay asleep. Despite having said all that has been said here; I still do not completely know who I am. I know I rationally may have a vague sense, but still I cannot genuinely feel it.
I am a person that will continuously change, and I will leave room for myself to do so. I am an immensely open minded individual who enjoys debating on the many controversial topics that exist in our world. I am a creative thinker, and a dreamer. I value intelligence, and find it to be the most attractive trait that a person can have. I hope one day to travel to many places and see all that this beautiful world has to offer. I enjoy art, philosophical conversations and deep sentimental movies. I am Eva; a melancholic insecure human being and can only hope to continue to stay motivated in order to reach my dreams and find a place where I will not only belong, but also be able to make a difference.
By Eva Aghekyan
September 5th 2012
This is indeed a rather extensive and onerous thing to ask an individual. I feel as if placed on the spot; suddenly the most fundamental question of my existence seems impossible to answer simply due to its broad and infinite nature. So much can be said about my character, that I sincerely have no idea where to begin. The one thing I can say with the wholeness of my heart is that I don't particularly know who I am yet; I can only attempt to elaborate on what I am like. What in this world evokes me, what I enjoy doing, what I've gone through, what my beliefs are and what I favor/disfavor amongst a multitude of divergent elements are what truly define me. But even these elements do not remain static. They can change and most probably will change ; so I am being asked this question and ask myself the same question with a great deal of wonder and oddly enough - fear. Who am I, really? But I can state the undeniable facts for now just as an introduction to what can turn out into becoming a 1000 page novel. My name is Eva Aghekyan. I am a mature 17 year old nihilistic atheist and live in the dire and dreary suburbs of Maple, Ontario. I am 5 feet 7 inches, have large brown eyes and medium length black wavy hair. I was born in Armenia and live with my two parents whom I love unconditionally. My life had always been rather difficult; and I have struggled to fit in with people ever since I was put in Kindergarten. I suffer from a mental illness quite possibly induced by my inclination towards deep disconsolate thought and the severity of a crippling low self-esteem.
I will start off by saying that I am a consistently developing person and have evolved a tremendous amount. Of course I was the same in terms of aesthetics, but unambiguously different in a purely psychological sense. Despite the positive changes that have occurred within me, inadequacy and a great deal of idiosyncrasies have been present in my life and literally shun my potential of being something other than the misanthropic cynical disaster than I am today. I am tragically flawed and plagued with a demoralizing mental impotence that weakens me to an unimaginable extent, albeit it is something that does not define who I am as a person whatsoever, it is only something I happen to be afflicted with. I am the epitome of melancholia and of disarray, and am quite content with being so as I feel significantly more creative with these temperaments for reasons I am not exactly sure of. I prefer observing people rather than speaking to them. To me, socializing is exhausting and requires a great deal of energy that I do not have- it's like having to perform and I don't have the freedom to be myself and do not feel comfortable around others. I primarily enjoy being alone and dread the thought of putting on a fake smile and pretending all is well when it isn't. I've noticed that this is how everyone is expected to act; content. Happiness is normal. Anything deviant from average conduct and thought is almost immediately labelled as weird, crazy and freakish; merely because the latter does not understand and takes no time to consider the circumstances of the individual. I have miniscule tolerance for ignorant, selfish and cruelly judgemental people who speak on plain terms. The majority of our human race sees life in a very black and white context. All good, or all bad. I can only imagine how awful it must feel to have such a vapid worldly perspective. I am infatuated with psychology and aspire to become a psychologist in the future. It is a great interest of mine to discover and truly understand why humans do the things they do and why the mind works the way it does.
Where there is imagination and ability to feel and articulate that imagination, no matter how it is expressed, there is art. Writing is one of the many endearing forms of art. Literature speaks the grizzly truth of the human condition and has the power to evoke emotional response from the reader so long as it is written well and introspectively. My favourite novelists include; Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Ernest Hemingway, Anton Chekhov, Leo Tolstoy, Charles Bukowski, Sylvia Plath and Oscar Wilde. Writing is my favourite hobby. In fact I have my thoughts written practically everywhere; on note pads, in my phone, word documents, on the palms of my hand, on tables, regular papers, napkins and published on the internet for all to read and criticize. A blank sheet of paper is my canvas and a pen my paintbrush. I cannot have a day go by without writing. It is such a wonderful way to let sour emotions and feelings go. Writing is therapeutic to me, the only thing dear to me. When I was trapped in an abominable bell jar, writing saved me. It is my one special passion; my escape from normal tragic life. I tend to see the dark side in things and my opinions reflect that. I am a highly skeptical person and question everything; reason being that I seek truth. I am not a sheep; I do not follow the herd, and cannot be enslaved by the whims of others. I am not subordinate to any "God". I am a freethinker. I also do not complain about things which I need not subject myself to.
I am a sensitive girl, and have been so ever since I was old enough to understand all of which surrounded me. I am forever changing until the time of my death. Every day I learn and discover something new about myself. My mind is like a spinning vortex; like a tangled ball of yarn. My thoughts are endless and crush me. I feel terribly inconsequential and dull. I fear that I am boring, and that I will get absolutely nowhere in life. I feel as if my future will be doomed and I will remain unhappy just as I am today. All of it my thoughts are incredibly unsettling. Sometimes I awake in the morning with such a wretched heavy ominous feeling; as if 200 pounds of lead is resting in my skull and on these mornings I want nothing more than to just go back to sleep; and to stay asleep. Despite having said all that has been said here; I still do not completely know who I am. I know I rationally may have a vague sense, but still I cannot genuinely feel it.
I am a person that will continuously change, and I will leave room for myself to do so. I am an immensely open minded individual who enjoys debating on the many controversial topics that exist in our world. I am a creative thinker, and a dreamer. I value intelligence, and find it to be the most attractive trait that a person can have. I hope one day to travel to many places and see all that this beautiful world has to offer. I enjoy art, philosophical conversations and deep sentimental movies. I am Eva; a melancholic insecure human being and can only hope to continue to stay motivated in order to reach my dreams and find a place where I will not only belong, but also be able to make a difference.