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Your personality is not finalized. You think a cigarette when you’re stressed is the best thing in the world, but it’s just a habit. Thirty days without it and you’d be fine. You also think you have a soul mate, but you could have had any person in the world. Your memories would be different, but you would have been just as happy.

You think school is a waste of time, so you don’t enjoy the time you have there. You don’t like peas, so you refuse to eat them again. This is your choice, but don’t lie to yourself: it’s also the flinch you make in that final moment before a decision - it is your decision.

You can change what you want about yourself whenever you’d like. You see yourself as someone who can’t swim or play the piano, who gives in to temptation or makes bad decisions, but that’s not you. It’s not embedded. It’s not your personality. Your personality is much deeper than the way something tasted when you were 12.

And all those details on the surface, you can change them too, anytime you’d like.

Sometimes you have to ditch your identity and start again. Sometimes it’s the only way. Set fire to your old self. It’s not needed. Its too busy feeling nostalgic, thinking about others and watching the days go by. This old self will die and be forgotten by all –

but you’ll replace it with someone who makes a difference. 

Your new self is nothing like before.

Your new self is like an uncontrollable fire –

Overwhelming, overpowering, and destroying everything that isn’t necessary. 

If we were all given by magic the power to read each other’s thoughts, I suppose the first effect would be almost all friendships would be dissolved; the second effect, however, might be excellent, for a world without any friends would be felt to be intolerable, and we should learn to like each other without needing a veil of illusion to conceal from ourselves that we did not think each other absolutely perfect.

Bertrand Russell, The Conquest of Happiness

The 22nd of June

We’re so young. We’re so young. We’re twenty-two years old. We have so much time.

There’s this sentiment I sometimes sense, creeping in our collective conscious as we lie alone after a party, or pack up our books when we give in and go out - that it is somehow too late.

That others are somehow ahead. More accomplished, more specialized. More on the path to somehow saving the world, somehow creating or inventing or improving.

That it’s too late now to BEGIN a beginning and we must settle for continuance, for commencement.