17.02.2026

Who Shall I Be

She stands in front of all the faces like they are doors.

Each one is a possibility — a uniform, a smile, a seriousness she does not yet understand. The adults in the pictures look certain, as if they woke up one day and simply knew who they were meant to become. I wonder when we start pretending that certainty is natural.

She doesn’t see limits. She sees costumes. She sees futures she can try on like jackets — doctor, dancer, teacher, traveler, mother, something not yet invented. The wall is not a boundary to her. It is a menu.

Maybe the real question isn’t who shall I be.
Maybe it’s who will I allow myself to become.

We are handed expectations early — colors, roles, stories about what fits and what doesn’t. But children don’t recognize cages unless we teach them the shape of the bars. She is still free in the way only the very young are free — identity wide open, unwritten.

One day she will choose something. Or many things. Or change her mind entirely. The wall behind her will blur into memory.

For now, she is not choosing.

She is becoming.

Word count: 219

— Maggie
The Afterlove Voice 💫