“Who are you?” The prompt reads. The classroom whiteboard displays the question, broad as day. A mere three words with a billion possibilities. The answer could read, “Aspiring athlete” or “ Quiet artist.” I hear the people around me. The sounds of creativity spiraling through the air. Keys typing, pencils writing, people making paragraphs upon paragraphs about themselves. While I just sit there...with a blank screen, writing...nothing, They say that I could answer this question with any answer...but I can't.
          

I look at this prompt like it's some impossible riddle. A riddle wrapped in an enigma locked inside of an inquiry and finally protected with a question. But it's only three words! Why do I have such a problem to this?
          

Do you mean who am I around friends? Then I'm a joker, I kid and pun. I'm the person who always has something to say.  Always striving for a laugh. I encourage and reassure, making sure everyone feels special and needed. I listen, I console, I admire, and I help. You need someone to talk to? Need someone to give you a good laugh? Go talk to Sam! I'm becoming some sort of a cross between a  therapist and a comedian. 
         

Or do you mean who I am around teachers? A quiet guy in front. Never a ruckus, never a problem. Only sits, does his work, and speaks when spoken to.  “The chances of him raising a hand for a question is once in a blue moon” they'll say. Gets his work done, moderately well. Nothing big, nothing special. Only the tall, shy, kid in the front row.
         

Or perhaps you meant who am I  around artists? The hyperactive ball of energy. The one who loves to think and draw. Pages upon pages, drawings upon drawings, stories upon stories. Only ever stopping for a breath. His brain works faster than his mouth so he almost never gets a full sentence out without stumbling. But he loves to talk, but also wants to listen and learn. Always looking for a new idea, prompt, muse.  Little bit of a loudmouth at times, but very passionate.
         

Or you could mean how I am around my dad? Proud, smart, strong. Lives  life by the three gotta’s: Gotta be brave, gotta be the best, gotta get it done,  and get it done right. A work ethic that would put a horse to shame. And if you wanna talk, you gotta use a big, Texan, accent. One that draws out the words, and blurs the consonants. 
         

Or how about my mom? She’d say I was Crafty, creative, and curious. Enamored with home renovation projects and DIY pasta recipes. Quiet yet sweet. Caring yet sarcastic. Passionate yet concealed. Only ever getting truly energetic about dogs and new Pixar movies. All that wrapped up with the attention span of a puppy and the memory of a goldfish.
        

What I'm trying to say is, there is no ONE answer. I'm like some sort of chameleon,  I change with my surroundings. I have to pick and choose. How do I act around this person? Or this person? If I get it wrong, I'm in trouble. My personality is a product of my environment, and I have a lot of environments. Eventually I end up with a million versions of the same person.
         

And the scariest time is, is when I'm finally alone. Nobody to impress, nobody to hide from. I'm just there, able to let go of all of my masks and be myself...and I still don't know who I am.  Even when I'm only confronted with my own reflection, I’m still trying to be someone, why can't I just be me?

That's when I realized, I'm not one thing or another. There is no fake me, there is no true me. There is only...me. And I like me, I like all of me’s.

I finally smile, and begin typing, joining the sound of typing and scribing around me. Nine words, two punctuations, and no regrets.
        

“Who am I? I'm me, and proud of it.”