There’s a strange moment that arrives without warning.
You wake up one day and realize you are living a life you never consciously chose. Not a bad life. Not even an unsuccessful one. Just… unfamiliar. And the most unsettling part is not where you are—but who you’ve become on the way here.
शायद मैं भूल गया हूँ कि मुझे क्या बनना था।
–Perhaps I have forgotten what I once wanted to become.
मैं भूल गया हूँ कि मैंने शुरुआत कहाँ से करी थी।
–I have forgotten where I even started from.
क्योंकि समय ही कहाँ है ये अब सोचने का।
–Because there is simply no time left to think about these things anymore.
कभी-कभी लगता है मैं वो बन गया हूँ जो मैं बनना नहीं चाहता था।
–Sometimes it feels like I have become the very person I never wanted to be.
और अब कभी-कभी लगता है कि जो मुझे बनना था, वो मुझसे बहुत ज़्यादा दूर खड़ा है।
–And now, sometimes it feels like the person I was meant to be is standing very, very far away from me.
The poem captures this feeling perfectly. It speaks of identity drift—the slow, almost invisible distance that grows between who you once wanted to be and who you are now. No dramatic fall. No single wrong decision. Just time doing what it does best: moving forward while you’re busy surviving.
The Gap Between the Ideal and the Real
At some point, the gap widened.
The person I admired—the version of me who felt alive, curious, and certain—now feels like someone I once knew but lost touch with. And the irony hurts: I didn’t become someone I hated on purpose. I just became someone I never intended to be.
That realization is heavy because it forces a question we often avoid:
When did I stop choosing and start drifting?
The Seed: When Everything Made Sense
In the beginning, there was clarity.
Not clarity of strategy, but clarity of why. The plans were simple and pure, not burdened by practicality or fear. I didn’t ask whether it was possible or profitable. I only knew it mattered.
That version of me wasn’t wiser—but it was honest. It trusted instinct over approval. Energy over security. Purpose over validation.
That was the seed.
The Drift: How It Slipped Away
The drift didn’t arrive as a rebellion. It arrived disguised as responsibility.
Life happened in small, reasonable steps. Bills needed to be paid. Expectations had to be met. Stability started sounding smarter than passion. And slowly, the noise of survival drowned out the quiet voice of intention.
I told myself things were temporary. “I’ll do this for now.” “I’ll get back to myself later.”
But later, it never announced itself.
There was no time to think. No space to reflect. I wasn’t steering anymore—I was just responding. And when you live in reaction mode long enough, direction disappears.
The Warning: Success Without Belonging
Here’s the uncomfortable truth the poem hints at:
You can succeed in a life that doesn’t belong to you.
And when that happens, achievement feels hollow. Milestones feel oddly quiet. You reach places you once dreamed of, only to realize the dream belonged to someone else.
That’s when crises appear—not because you failed, but because you succeeded at the wrong thing.
The original you doesn’t vanish. It just moves farther away. And one day, you fear it might become a stranger.
Bringing Back the Original You
The solution isn’t to burn everything down or rewind time. Growth isn’t about erasing who you’ve become—it’s about integrating who you were.
Return to Your Why
Set aside real, uninterrupted time. Ask yourself why you started. Not what impressed others—but what made you feel alive. That answer is still there. Quiet. Patient. Waiting.
Choose One Act of Truth
You don’t need a life overhaul. You need one daily act that belongs to the original you. Fifteen minutes. One habit. One promise: you don’t negotiate with the world.
Identity isn’t reclaimed in grand gestures. It returns through consistency.
Create Space to Think
Silence is not laziness. It’s the leadership of the self. Even ten minutes of stillness can interrupt autopilot living and remind you that you still have a choice.
Name the Mask
Look honestly at the version of yourself you’ve grown uncomfortable with. Name the traits. Awareness is power. Once named, they lose control.
Forgive the Drift
This is crucial.
The person you are today survived things your younger self never imagined. The drift wasn’t weakness—it was adaptation. Honor that strength. Then redirect it.
You’re Not Lost. You’re Paused.
This isn’t a story of failure. It’s a story of forgetting—and remembering.
The original you isn’t gone. It’s just been quiet while you were busy becoming capable. And now, perhaps, capable enough to return—not as who you were, but as who you were meant to become.
The journey back doesn’t require starting over.
It only asks that you start listening again.
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