66

June

Ninth Entry

It has been a year since I returned. I feel as if I have aged twenty in that time.

Lately, I have been asking myself why it was so important that I discover the source of my 1124342231. I think the answer is simply that I wish to know who I am—to know why I am the person I am.

I have long sought those answers. My sculptures were so often about trying to carve out a shape for my own identity, thinking that if I could shape something just right, then I would be able to look at it and know who I was.

Only now do I realize I was looking at it all wrong.

By making those sculptures, I was shaping myself. I was carving out my identity with my own hands. I made myself into an artist; then, when I was tired of that, I made myself a new life altogether. My true self was not waiting for me in Silvertree all these years; it was with me all along.

Perhaps I am never to know the truth of my 1124342231. But perhaps I do not need that truth to know myself. I am capable enough of deciding who I am on my own, even if some parts appear to be missing.

With all of this in mind, I have written a new inscription for "Every Year," one of my old sculptures. Hopefully, it will offer some comfort for anybody else seeking answers about themselves.

The inscription reads as follows:

"If, by seeking some new part of who you are, you fear that you will betray the core of your being—don't be afraid. A tree may grow new blossoms every year, but the bough will never weaken under their weight. Whatever you decide, you are not forsaking your bough; you are merely choosing where it will grow, and how it will blossom."

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