Know Thyself

“Describe yourself in one sentence or less.”

I stare blankly at the application prompt.  How does one sum up thirty years of life in a few short words?  The question rolls around in my head, clanging off my ready-made answers, prepared for interviews and applications, trying to force a fit to no avail.  “Looks like I’ll have to start from scratch,” I think, frustrated with the prospect.

I struggle with the feelings I want to convey, with the “me” I want to present.  Syntax and spaces sometimes say as much as the text.  In my case, self confidence punctuated by dark periods of loneliness and question marks of self-doubt.

Am I obligated to delve into the dark recess of my personality?  Need I divulge my shortcomings? 

My sense of entitlement is deeply embedded in my psyche, dispatching disappointment and dissatisfaction, used as fuel to drive my ambition and my sense of humor. I do distinguish my feelings in this instance from my peers, however. I feel entitled to happiness, not gratification.  I feel entitled to love, not lust or pleasure.  I feel entitled to opportunity for achievement, not instant success.  Is that what they want to hear?  I stop myself.  “I better not be too personal.”

I am smart and educated, confident yet doubting, affable, funny, entitled, tall…. the adjectives continue to tumble out of me like clowns out of a car.  This prompt can’t be requesting a grocery list of identifiers. 

No, this prompt requires more than a mere manifest of modifiers.  It requires thought and syntax, self-awareness and maybe even adverbs.  I try, therefore, to create an imperial sentence; the pauses festooned with significance, the verbiage draped in import.  I type furiously, my fingers a blur as they clack on the computer keys.  Then I stop to survey my masterpiece.

“I…hate self-reflection.”

Eh, good enough.