The Unfinished Self

Be still, be calm, be gentle—these are the words I murmur to myself every morning as I make shallow attempts to ground the restlessness inside me. Perhaps you’ve felt it too—the pull of something deep within, something that needs release.

So, what am I bringing to this space? Words? Hardly. I have no interest in impressing you with language or clever turns of phrase. This is something far more urgent—a purging of the spirit, long overdue, expelled from the very heart of me. Within me reigns a cosmic anger, a creative anger. It is a land of anger, one that spits and vomits life itself.

I will do my best to arrange the right words, carefully weaving them with intention, inviting you into my labyrinth. But even as I try, I wonder: Can any sentence truly capture the depth of what lies inside? I doubt it. Still, I strive, even when words fail me. Because only in the act of release can we find a way to bravely march forward. Thus, with my pen, drawing strength from my hand and as these words come to life, I sense something stirring. A new form emerges—a version of me I haven’t yet met. Reborn. Clarified. Sharpened. A self renewed.

Years passed, and with them, the weight of things once beyond my grasp began to shift. In the spaces between, I found faces I never expected, as though they had always been waiting just beyond the threshold. The people on the other side were destined to cross my path, just as I was to cross theirs. Regardless of the length of our encounters, stories, memories, and dreams unfolded at precisely the right moment—a meeting beyond our control, yet meant to be.

Like particles in quantum entanglement, we humans remain connected across time and space, drawn together by an extraordinary force that knew us from the very beginning, for a purpose beyond our understanding. Our deepest connections aren’t forged by proving our worth or showcasing material success, but by having the courage to be exactly who we are—whole and unafraid. Wholeness is messy. It’s vulnerability. It’s laughter through tears. It’s the courage to show up when we feel unworthy and let others see us anyway. Similar to entangled particles, we resonate with one another not because we must, but because together we overflow with possibility.

So, what does it mean to be yourself? What is the self? How can we be that which we already are? To me, the self is a construct—a fantasy we create to give ourselves a sense of identity and consistency. My story. My life. The voice in my tête. Beneath this autobiographical narrative lies a fragmented, inconsistent self shaped by unconscious desires, societal pressures, and unresolved tensions. At the core of the self, there is a rupture, a split that prevents us from fully "knowing" who we are. There is no stable, final truth about ourselves, and perhaps that’s why loving this "self" can feel like loving a mirage. Why do we reinforce this fantasy by maintaining a superficial relationship with an idealised image of oneself, instead of confronting the deeper contradictions. My guess is that it’s an attempt to reconcile with something fundamentally unstable and unknowable.

As I grow older I embrace the paradox of loving the self because I have learned self-love isn’t about affirming an idealised version of who we are. It’s about living with and through the contradictions that define us. To love ourselves is to persist in love despite the rupture at our core. It’s not about perfect harmony—it’s about embracing all that we are, flaws and all.

The people who matter—those who truly see you—will never ask you to be anything but yourself. Authenticity is the highest form of adornment. And yet, not everyone will see you. Many have eyes but are too preoccupied to truly look. In the end, I’ve learned that the most profound connections we make with others begin with the connection we forge with ourselves. It’s not about being invulnerable or flawless; it’s about being you. All of you.

So here is my hope for you, for me, for all of us: that we may have the courage to stop performing and start living. That we may embrace the fullness of our humanity, knowing that to feel deeply, to love without reservation, and to face ourselves with honesty is the greatest strength we will ever know. Because life isn’t about being unattainable, unshakable, or untouchable. It’s about standing in the mirror of your own soul, with all its cracks and light, and saying, “This is me. And that is enough.”