i’ve been thinking a lot about how we become who we are
and how… i don’t know… how little of it actually starts with us

like we don’t just wake up one day as this fully formed version of ourselves
we gather along the way

from people
from moments
from things we didn’t even realize were sticking

i read something once, years ago, about how we become pieces of the people we’ve loved
and it stayed with me in a way i didn’t fully understand at the time

i think i understand it a little more now

i don’t really know when it starts
this quiet collecting of people
or if we even notice it happening

the way someone laughed
or the music they always played
or how they saw the world in a way that made you pause

and somehow that stays

not in an obvious way
not in a “i took this from you” kind of way

just… quietly
in the way things do when you’re not paying attention 

like loving something and not even remembering when it became yours 
or carrying little habits you didn’t realize were taught to you

the way i still make ramen the same way my childhood best friend and i used to

how certain songs still feel like home because of who i first heard them with

ordering the same subway sandwich a friend and i always got together in high school

getting the same aroma joes rush someone introduced me to years ago

my taste in music came from a phase me and a friend went through, but it clearly was never a phase

loving video games because that is how i spent time with certain cousins and friends

finding my love for writing because someone i loved had faith in me and encouraged me to do it and share it

getting into running because someone shared their love for it with me, and somewhere along the way i realized it helped quiet my mind too

making buffalo chicken dip exactly the way an old friend’s ex taught me

eating sushi has changed for me over the years because of people showing me the way they loved it

finding clothes i finally felt comfortable in because friends shared pieces they loved

folding towels was taught to me by an ex’s mother and now i don’t want them folded any other way

starting to read because of recommendations passed between friends over the years

learning how to look for the light in things because my sister always made sure i could see it too

making omelets and french toast the exact way my gramps made them for me every weekend growing up

how when i bake, i still listen to the same song my gramps and i used to play on his record player while we baked together

some places still feel peaceful, not because of where they are, but because of who i once was there with

growing up with an aunt who always had me outside as a toddler, and i think that’s where my love for nature first started

then years later, it found its way back to me through someone who isn’t around anymore and somehow it became one of the most healing parts of my life when i needed it most

and maybe that’s what it is
pieces of people showing up in quiet ways long after they’re gone

and it doesn’t feel like something taken
it just feels… familiar

i think i used to believe i had to be entirely my own
untouched by anyone else
like that was the only way to be real

but i don’t think that’s true anymore

i think we’re made up of people
of versions of ourselves that only existed because someone else was there at that point in our lives

and none of it feels like taking

it just feels like… becoming

like carrying pieces of the people who meant something to us
even if they’re not in our lives the same way anymore

maybe they’re still here in quiet ways

and i wonder sometimes if the pieces we carry always feel the same to the people they came from
or if what feels meaningful to one person becomes forgettable to another

i don’t really know

but i don’t think it makes us less ourselves

if anything, i think it makes us more

more layered
more human
more real, i guess

because who we are was never meant to exist completely on its own

we’re shaped by connection
by love
by the way people leave something behind without even trying

and maybe that’s the quiet beauty of it

that we’re never just one thing

we’re a mix
a collection
a little bit of everything we’ve lived and everyone we’ve loved

and somehow… it all becomes us

maybe not everyone feels this way

but i do

and i think there’s something really beautiful about that