Who Am I?And Why Does It Even Matter?

Who am I

Who Am I?

And Why Does It Even Matter?

by Sha’Riel

Who am I?

I’ve asked myself that question so many times.

In the silence after heartbreak.

In the hunger after hope.

In the wreckage of yet another offering the world didn’t take.

Am I a healer?

A guide?

A broken woman trying to pretend I still believe?

I don’t know anymore.

I used to think I was here for something sacred.

To help. To awaken. To serve.

I used to believe that if I gave my all—if I opened my heart, told the truth, walked in light—

life would meet me there.

But it didn’t.

Not in the way I needed.

Not in the ways that would’ve saved me from this bone-deep weariness.

So I ask again:

Who am I, really?

And why does it matter?

The truth is—sometimes, it doesn’t.

Sometimes the question itself feels cruel.

Like a mirror held up to a soul that’s already done everything it can just to survive.

And yet, somewhere beneath the rage, beneath the grief, beneath the numbness—

there’s still a voice.

Quiet.

Unimpressed by applause.

Unafraid of silence.

It says:

You are the question.

You are the ache.

You are the one who dares to speak, even when the world stops listening.

And that matters.

Not because it’s rewarded.

Not because it’s profitable.

But because it’s real.

I am real.

I am a soul who keeps breathing in a world that keeps breaking.

I am the flicker of candle flame that refuses to go out,

even when I want it to.

And maybe that’s who I am.

Just a sacred flame that refuses to die quietly.