It is who I am, who I want to be, and you cannot force upon me your ideas or beliefs. You cannot control me or force me to buy into your theories. I am going to do things my way and form my own identity. I never liked you anyway, to be real honest. You get under my skin and burrow there like a fierce serpent. I want you out of my life.
Anonymous
The identity of the shoemaker was never revealed.
She made some of the prettiest shoes mankind has ever seen. Some say it was magical – made the wearer feel like they owned the world.
After all, she was just wanting for others what she wanted for herself.
Sowmiya
I dented the car and saw her titty pop out from her shirt. I felt more embarrassed than she did, though she turned quite pink. She did smile though, too.
I
DENT
TITY
ITs’ all there. YOu can see her golden hair in the pale moonlight.
Anonymous
It’s who I am that does what I do. You can’t divide your actions into ‘you’ and ‘not you’, fore every word you utter and every moment you make is a reflection of who you were and are and will be, whether it be of weakness or of strength.
GreyHat
I often wonder if I was assigned the wrong identity by whatever power decides such things. I have never felt like who I am. Odd, that. But then, who the hell am I? And can I trade in this me for the right one?
Emma
i made best friends with a rock today,
whose cousin was a bird and whose mother
was the earth,
and whose heartbeat
i realized felt a little
more like my own,
than someone else’s.
and as my thoughts pounded
from climbing too many mountains
in the matter of five and a half months,
i caught myself.
and an identity that didn’t taste
of cold metal and empty
but color and warmth.
and my own elusive identiy.
onlyfliesaway
oh dear once upon a time i was a blue grey blob and pretty much i was not me and well, i was and i’m not quite sure if we are ourselves if we are are not aware of us being ourselves. so was i more myself then or now. i do not know this. i am me.
sam
rdy
an
It is yourself… WHO YOU ARE! o:
Secret
identity
allie
theft of the above. how can we deal with it? a nationwide campaign will tell us to trust something, but can we? how can we put everything in someone’s hand and trust that it will be safe? how can we assume they know how to handle it? we can’t.
Grace
this is what I want and strive for each day my identity. In my mothering space, in my marriage and in my art. Identity is a crisis for most people. It is hard to find out who you are because most people are too busy being what other people want them to be or what they THINK other people want them to be. I would like to see everyone on this planet know who they are. That would be such a wonderful feeling. There would be no pretending and no competition. People would like themselves and then in turn be able to like others.
alohalaurna
i have no idea what this word means i think it is latin
Bob
I’m pretty sure my identity is magic. People are drawn to me. I project my thoughts outward very well. I also pick up on others thoughts very well. I know I’m not
n
o
r
m
a
l
hmm
it was the same person that the police had been looking for and the identity was exactly the same. as soon as they saw him they arrseted him. they locked him up forever in a jail cell so he couldn’tescape.
Braedon
Do you look for your identity in people? Things? Who are you? Ask yourself, and you may be surprised by the answer.
actor
we have none. not anymore. once when names mattered, when faces had relationships, our identities were worth something. Nothing now. No one knows you anymore.
nam
the identity of the youth was still shrouded in mystery, causing countless questions to come in to the head of Lina, and countless reasons to distrust the youth in the mind of the farm boy. The fairy boy was standing off to the side, absentmindedly admiring his reflection in the side of his sharp polished dagger.
anna
I almost lost it to someone in Texas. They took our credit card numbers and tried to buy stuff at a gas station. Luckily they caught the person before anything could happen.
mdzzzz
it the only thing you have that is your own nobody can truly steel it if you believe who you are then that is who you are its what keeps you sane the only thing you know for certain
indigo
i have an identity
its only for me
i can only have it
this is me
and this is it
my identity
is unexplanable
dont try to
i cant explian yours
identity
victoria
identity
identity
identity
Anonymous
someone’s identity defines them in some aspects, actually, in most. it is certain that we are all identified in how we act, look and speak. life consists of identity period. it is essential to have an identity. or s it? things do not continue on as always, things are things, we are we, what are YOU? people can hide their identity, live it, or sing it. you choose. it will always be there, whether you like it or not.
camille
Myself, who I am, who I will be, how people see and how they will remember me when I’m gone.
Individuality…
Nicole
identity is how one views one’s self. It’s how you would describe yourself and what other see you as. It is how you are recognized. It is personal.
Neko_Shinobi
Who am I? who is anyone? what makes us who we are? How can we come to know our true identity? It is not an easy process, and may take an entire lifetime.
Jesse
my identity is all I own. It’s about who I am. Not what I have or what I can potentially gain. It’s about who I am. How God made me. I am no more and no less.
Andrew Sherwin
Identity crisis, that’s what I am.
Never knowing what defines me, I guess the word is undefinable.
Always so confused, thinking too much about some fantasies to remain in the real world. And so the real me doesn’t exist. That is my identity. It’s nothing at all.
Nobody
ID. We need it to vote in this country. As we should. The voting, I mean. Like today. Today is the day that we begin the process of taking back the Republican Party and our country. No excuses. I only wish I lived somewhere today where I could vote and make a difference.
Thomas E. Grooms III
His identity was all he had left. He was defeated. Lost. Alone. Cold. And ashamed. The Ming dynasty chief had killed all of his men, and left him, shattered, in the dungeons of Chin Zeao. But he had his identity, and that was a good place to start.
Kirby
a piece of you that is gone lilke the wind in a trajectory braised afternoon, the canvas of your face that everyone sees and laughs and judges. how is it that this one thing can protect from war, genocide, hope, freedom, consumption. When martin luther king preached from his podium he used this as a weapon. each and every artifact of humanity is rooted in this word.
Dagmar Bellows
my identity… what is it? i don’t even know. i feel like it’s what i am, who i am going to be come, what i want to do… there are so many aspects. it’s my past, my future, my loved ones, my dog, my life, the color i love best… what shoes i’m wearing. it has nothign to do with me sometimes, but everythign AROUND me that makes me who i am. it’s like i’m just a part of the puzzle. that’s my identity. crazy!
elizabeth
It was a secret. That was the point. Falling in love didn’t change anything, she still couldn’t tell him who she really was. There was no going back from the vow she had made. There was only living through the complication of not having an identity that she could share.
Jonii
I can’t identify with anything and no one can identify with me. YOu havent had my problems and you havent had the people I have had in my life. So you really have to idea who I am or what I have experienced so really you should just get off my back and go talk to someone who is like you, because it isnt me. I feel bad for you though, because you’ll never understand me but you will judge me. Just don’t be an ass about it.
Jed
Is it even possible to know your own identity? You can pass judgement on the identities of others; lover, fighter, pushover, hot mess, etc. But it isn’t them.
fe
Identity
My identity is in flux. One day I
Michelle
Identity. “Me.” My shrink says I shouldn’t identify with things anything quite so much. My actions are only one possible result from a larger, undefinable consciousness.
Anonymous
Silver eyes glare back at her, as impassive and judgmental as she always was. Fuck her reflection. She smacked the glass with her open palm, feeling it give and splinter beneath her fingertips. Even if she could shatter the mirror into a thousand pieces, she would still be herself, and nothing else. As the first spiderwebs of cracks split across her perfect face, she smiled. Nothing else.
Charlie Rose
identity. a constant struggle to obtain and hold on to. who am i? who are you? how and why should i judge you, is identity a choice or a placement?
It is who I am, who I want to be, and you cannot force upon me your ideas or beliefs. You cannot control me or force me to buy into your theories. I am going to do things my way and form my own identity. I never liked you anyway, to be real honest. You get under my skin and burrow there like a fierce serpent. I want you out of my life.
The identity of the shoemaker was never revealed.
She made some of the prettiest shoes mankind has ever seen. Some say it was magical – made the wearer feel like they owned the world.
After all, she was just wanting for others what she wanted for herself.
I dented the car and saw her titty pop out from her shirt. I felt more embarrassed than she did, though she turned quite pink. She did smile though, too.
I
DENT
TITY
ITs’ all there. YOu can see her golden hair in the pale moonlight.
It’s who I am that does what I do. You can’t divide your actions into ‘you’ and ‘not you’, fore every word you utter and every moment you make is a reflection of who you were and are and will be, whether it be of weakness or of strength.
I often wonder if I was assigned the wrong identity by whatever power decides such things. I have never felt like who I am. Odd, that. But then, who the hell am I? And can I trade in this me for the right one?
i made best friends with a rock today,
whose cousin was a bird and whose mother
was the earth,
and whose heartbeat
i realized felt a little
more like my own,
than someone else’s.
and as my thoughts pounded
from climbing too many mountains
in the matter of five and a half months,
i caught myself.
and an identity that didn’t taste
of cold metal and empty
but color and warmth.
and my own elusive identiy.
oh dear once upon a time i was a blue grey blob and pretty much i was not me and well, i was and i’m not quite sure if we are ourselves if we are are not aware of us being ourselves. so was i more myself then or now. i do not know this. i am me.
rdy
It is yourself… WHO YOU ARE! o:
identity
theft of the above. how can we deal with it? a nationwide campaign will tell us to trust something, but can we? how can we put everything in someone’s hand and trust that it will be safe? how can we assume they know how to handle it? we can’t.
this is what I want and strive for each day my identity. In my mothering space, in my marriage and in my art. Identity is a crisis for most people. It is hard to find out who you are because most people are too busy being what other people want them to be or what they THINK other people want them to be. I would like to see everyone on this planet know who they are. That would be such a wonderful feeling. There would be no pretending and no competition. People would like themselves and then in turn be able to like others.
i have no idea what this word means i think it is latin
I’m pretty sure my identity is magic. People are drawn to me. I project my thoughts outward very well. I also pick up on others thoughts very well. I know I’m not
n
o
r
m
a
l
it was the same person that the police had been looking for and the identity was exactly the same. as soon as they saw him they arrseted him. they locked him up forever in a jail cell so he couldn’tescape.
Do you look for your identity in people? Things? Who are you? Ask yourself, and you may be surprised by the answer.
we have none. not anymore. once when names mattered, when faces had relationships, our identities were worth something. Nothing now. No one knows you anymore.
the identity of the youth was still shrouded in mystery, causing countless questions to come in to the head of Lina, and countless reasons to distrust the youth in the mind of the farm boy. The fairy boy was standing off to the side, absentmindedly admiring his reflection in the side of his sharp polished dagger.
I almost lost it to someone in Texas. They took our credit card numbers and tried to buy stuff at a gas station. Luckily they caught the person before anything could happen.
it the only thing you have that is your own nobody can truly steel it if you believe who you are then that is who you are its what keeps you sane the only thing you know for certain
i have an identity
its only for me
i can only have it
this is me
and this is it
my identity
is unexplanable
dont try to
i cant explian yours
identity
identity
identity
someone’s identity defines them in some aspects, actually, in most. it is certain that we are all identified in how we act, look and speak. life consists of identity period. it is essential to have an identity. or s it? things do not continue on as always, things are things, we are we, what are YOU? people can hide their identity, live it, or sing it. you choose. it will always be there, whether you like it or not.
Myself, who I am, who I will be, how people see and how they will remember me when I’m gone.
Individuality…
identity is how one views one’s self. It’s how you would describe yourself and what other see you as. It is how you are recognized. It is personal.
Who am I? who is anyone? what makes us who we are? How can we come to know our true identity? It is not an easy process, and may take an entire lifetime.
my identity is all I own. It’s about who I am. Not what I have or what I can potentially gain. It’s about who I am. How God made me. I am no more and no less.
Identity crisis, that’s what I am.
Never knowing what defines me, I guess the word is undefinable.
Always so confused, thinking too much about some fantasies to remain in the real world. And so the real me doesn’t exist. That is my identity. It’s nothing at all.
ID. We need it to vote in this country. As we should. The voting, I mean. Like today. Today is the day that we begin the process of taking back the Republican Party and our country. No excuses. I only wish I lived somewhere today where I could vote and make a difference.
His identity was all he had left. He was defeated. Lost. Alone. Cold. And ashamed. The Ming dynasty chief had killed all of his men, and left him, shattered, in the dungeons of Chin Zeao. But he had his identity, and that was a good place to start.
a piece of you that is gone lilke the wind in a trajectory braised afternoon, the canvas of your face that everyone sees and laughs and judges. how is it that this one thing can protect from war, genocide, hope, freedom, consumption. When martin luther king preached from his podium he used this as a weapon. each and every artifact of humanity is rooted in this word.
my identity… what is it? i don’t even know. i feel like it’s what i am, who i am going to be come, what i want to do… there are so many aspects. it’s my past, my future, my loved ones, my dog, my life, the color i love best… what shoes i’m wearing. it has nothign to do with me sometimes, but everythign AROUND me that makes me who i am. it’s like i’m just a part of the puzzle. that’s my identity. crazy!
It was a secret. That was the point. Falling in love didn’t change anything, she still couldn’t tell him who she really was. There was no going back from the vow she had made. There was only living through the complication of not having an identity that she could share.
I can’t identify with anything and no one can identify with me. YOu havent had my problems and you havent had the people I have had in my life. So you really have to idea who I am or what I have experienced so really you should just get off my back and go talk to someone who is like you, because it isnt me. I feel bad for you though, because you’ll never understand me but you will judge me. Just don’t be an ass about it.
Is it even possible to know your own identity? You can pass judgement on the identities of others; lover, fighter, pushover, hot mess, etc. But it isn’t them.
Identity
My identity is in flux. One day I
Identity. “Me.” My shrink says I shouldn’t identify with things anything quite so much. My actions are only one possible result from a larger, undefinable consciousness.
Silver eyes glare back at her, as impassive and judgmental as she always was. Fuck her reflection. She smacked the glass with her open palm, feeling it give and splinter beneath her fingertips. Even if she could shatter the mirror into a thousand pieces, she would still be herself, and nothing else. As the first spiderwebs of cracks split across her perfect face, she smiled. Nothing else.
identity. a constant struggle to obtain and hold on to. who am i? who are you? how and why should i judge you, is identity a choice or a placement?
do you have to have an identity?