“Barbie” Essay: What was I made for?

2 mins read

Maybe I’m just an idea of what it’s like to be human.

There are moments when I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing. I think I’m just stereotypical and not good at anything. But maybe most of the stuff we think that make us aren’t important at all – maybe we are just perfect with who we are. Completely unconcerned with how we look or what we own, if we have a partner or not, whether we own a house or if we have a mink. But maybe we don’t need all of this. Maybe we are just right.

© Copyright: Warner Bros.


I’m okay with having only one ending. The ideas buzzing in my head are infinite and live beyond me. But during my time on earth, I can control them – I can be one of the people who create something and trigger something in others. I leave a footprint for everyone around me – with some I know for a fact that I put a smile on their face, with others it may be unconscious. And even though there are phases that can be uncomfortable, I know it’s part of it: Part of life. Part of being human.

I want to be a part of it. Not to be controlled, but to make my own decisions. It’s not something I have to ask for. I just do it. Take one step at a time. Stretch my hands forward and feel a touch on my skin. Close my eyes and breathe deeply. Feel as air passes through my throat. As colors change around me and tears run down my cheek.

© Copyright: Warner Bros.

And I see memories – they are not mine, but they seem confidential. Snapshots. Jam jar moments. Joy. Lightheartedness. Freedom. All at once. I don’t know how I feel – but I want to try. Someday I’ll might. Someday I’m alright.

And then I can finally answer the important question: ೃ⁀➷ What was I made for? *ੈ✩‧₊˚



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