Monologue--DMV

There I was, sitting in the DMV, and the attendant asked me, "Who are you?"

And at that moment, my brain began racing. Such a simple question, yet full of so much vagueness and ambiguousness--who am I? Do I let myself be defined by societal labels and expectations, or do I follow the status perimeter set upon me politically: dark-skinned, dark-haired, brown-eyed teenage female? Or do I defy all the odds and take the road never traveled; take the avenue that is littered with self-expression and individuality, but only to be shunned by society and deemed a social pariah at the end? Do I dare take the risk--no, am I strong enough to take the risk? To step away from the crowd and create my own pack--one where I face the risk of standing alone forever?

And at that moment, I turned to the attendant, stood up and said bravely, "I AM ME."

When I got my license in the mail, the line where my name is supposed to be said, 'Me'.

And that made all the difference.