Jan. 20

1/20/2026 8:30 Correspondence 124

What makes someone you know? What makes someone you? A self-portrait in words can paint a deeper figure than a static image. And so I look in myself and ask the question. Who am I? And frankly, I got nothing. I can't make up my mind. I can't figure it out. I can't find a satisfying answer to the very question. So when you are stuck answering that question, there is nothing there but an empty spot on the wall. The absence of an awncer is an absence of oneself. I wasn't to be everything, I long to be everything. But then what does that leave me when I look at my soul? A blurry, confusing image that is constantly shifting focus and field of view. A tangled web that creates a dense fog that rises from my soul and into my mind. Who am I? A walking contradiction of desires and dreams. A monster that you can never seem to quite make out.  

I take steps between my classes, and with every step I ask myself questions. Why must I ask myself questions? 

Quiet isolation is the mother of thought. 

And thought is the enemy of happiness. 

Who am I? 

Calvin Landtreth