We’re Asked What We’re Going to Become — But What Are You?

Out there, there’s a constant exchange happening. Not just of things, but of attention, identity, and meaning. Everywhere you look, there is something to consume. On your phone, through your feeds, in subtle suggestions about what to buy, what to read, what to become. It never really stops. But this consumption is no longer about adding value or understanding. It has become a way of filling a space we don’t quite know how to face. We consume information the way we consume products. Quickly, endlessly, and often without reflection. And somewhere along the way, we begin to consume versions of ourselves as well. Profiles, posts, curated updates, these become fragments of identity presented as proof. Proof of relevance and validation of progress. It becomes digital proof that we are, in some way, becoming something.

But what are you becoming? There is a strange pressure embedded in modern life. It appears early and never quite leaves: There is a strange pressure embedded in modern life. It appears early and never quite leaves: What are you going to become? It sounds like a harmless question, even an encouraging one, as it invites you to think about what you can do, contribute, and how you can make a positive impact. Yet beneath it lies an assumption—that who you are now is incomplete, insufficient, or temporary.

It is a constant presence in our contemporary age, and something that looked different only a couple of generations ago. Previous generations didn’t face this to the same extent, as different digital phenomena now blindfold us from valuing what once had meaning—contributing through effort, being a good man or woman, and doing your duties. Now, that alone often feels like it leads nowhere. You can do everything “right,” give everything of yourself to something or someone, and still be left with nothing. You can do everything right in the book, and giving everything off yourself to someone else, and you be let with nothing. This is leading to a younger generation with putting their value either into unhealthy habits, or that your value exists somewhere in the future, waiting to be achieved.

This is leading a younger generation to place their value either in unhealthy habits or in the belief that their worth exists somewhere in the future, waiting to be achieved. This is why we begin to construct ourselves accordingly. People are trying to hold on to life, in a sense, because the ride is fast. We shape our actions around what might look meaningful to others. We measure our lives against visible standards, and we learn to present rather than to experience. And in doing so, we slowly distance ourselves from a more difficult question, the one that doesn’t offer easy answers or social validation:

What are you?

This question is far less comfortable. It doesn’t point forward to a goal or a title, it turns inward. It asks for stillness, honesty, and confrontation with layers of yourself. And perhaps that is exactly why it is avoided. Until it is faced, we can run with the crowd and try to fulfill ourselves through the external, material, and consuming world as much as we want. But it will not last. Because sitting in silence, without distraction, is not easy.

In silence, there are no performances to maintain. No audience to convince, and no metrics to rely on. What remains is simply your own thoughts. Unfiltered, unresolved, and often unsettling. But you can reach a point where you are content with what is. It’s a place of quiet clarity, almost like an island. You have your own imagination. It is here that the realization begins to surface: how much of daily life is shaped by habit, expectation, and quiet imitation. How much of what we do is not truly chosen, but a reflection of the system we are placed within. You may have qualifications, but often people end up in positions because of circumstance and others. In these roles, especially in work, you are molded, shaped in repetitive ways of thinking, behaving, and acting based on someone else’s standards and ideals.

What looks like certainty from the outside often reveals itself as uncertainty within. And so, we keep moving, consuming, and projecting. Not necessarily because we are certain of where we are going, but because stopping might force us to admit that we don’t know. After spending years, even decades, in this way of living, something eventually interrupts the momentum. People call it “hitting a wall.” A moment where the structure no longer holds. Where the path that once seemed clear begins to feel hollow. These moments are often treated as failures, but they may be something else entirely. They may be the result of postponing that deeper question for too long.

Not “What should I become?”
But “What am I, without all of this?”

Is it not more honest, more truthful, to ask yourself that question? Even if you don’t know the answer, you are at least on the path of working it out. Because people tend to identify with their accomplishments, their titles, their labels, or even their social media descriptions. There is no simple or objective answer. And maybe there isn’t supposed to be. The idea that identity is something fixed, something to be defined once and carried forward, is comforting, but it may also be misleading. What you are is not a final statement. It is not a label you arrive at and secure. It is something that unfolds through questioning, through awareness, through the willingness to remain uncertain.

Is it worth abandoning what is unclear, unfinished, or undefined just to arrive at something that can be named? Or is there more value in remaining open, even if that means facing uncertainty? Because what you are is not something waiting at the end of a path. It is something shaped in real time. Through attention, through choices, through awareness of what feels true and what does not. It does not require constant validation. It does not depend on external recognition. And it does not need to align with anyone else’s expectations. To live that way is not to reject growth or ambition. It is simply to remove the illusion that becoming something else will finally resolve the question of who you are.

I believe what is important to remember is that you are already in it. Not as a finished product, not as a fixed identity, but as something in motion. Something aware. Something capable of questioning itself without immediately trying to escape the discomfort of not knowing.

And maybe that is enough. Not to have the answer, but to stop running from the question. Because that, in itself, means becoming aware and taking responsibility for oneself.

Take it easy,
Tom