“I was half-Indian in one place and white in the other. It was like being Indian was my job, but it was a part-time job.” Identity is something only an individual can fully define. My brother says I am affectionate,cheerful, and calm. My grandfather sees me as slim, pretty and sweet. My sister described me as perky, cheerful and happy, my mother says beautiful, gentle, and self-conscious. These adjectives only somewhat describe me, yet they are only abstract versions of me. It is impossible for anyone to understand me completely because nobody has experienced the things I have. My sister has never cherished a raggedy doll named Chloe and my mother never spent hours upon hours earning money to get herself a puppy and taking care of it with her own money. My brother never snuck out of the house in the middle of the night to meet with friends and my sister has never walked hours in a store looking for our mother. My identity is something only I can define.
The outer layer is how everyone sees me. “Cute” was an adjective my family and friends used to describe me. Though this phrase is not meant to be cynical, it makes me feel like I am foolish and that my family couldn’t think of adjectives indicating intelligence. Pleasant means enjoyable... agreeable... welcoming. When distinguishing my identity I
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My identity is my desire to better myself, and my passion for children. My identity is who I want to be and what I do to accomplish my goals. My identity is the feelings and emotions I pour into my journal every day, and the way I feel when I do something right. My identity is not what others think of me or what I think of myself after a bad day. My identity is the love and confidence I have in myself, and the beauty