In my imagination I see myself as someone completely unbothered by all the bullshit the world and people in it want to throw at me. Unconcerned by everything. In contrast to what I’m like in real life.

I’ve almost never imagined myself as myself. Usually as a character from whatever I’m hyperfixated on at the moment. Ex if I picture a scenario in my head I see myself as Alucard the vampire or something.

Actually witty and funny. And not socially awkward and weird. Which is totally what I’m like in real life because why would I imagine myself as something I’m not.

Changes constantly.

My brain has coalesced around this fantasy version of who I was when I was 25.

I’m in my 30s now but when I imagine myself that’s who I picture. And funny enough that person wasn’t even who I was at that age. I was way insecure about so many of the things I now think back on fondly. Getting older is a funny thing.

Usually when I’m daydreaming, I make up characters on the spot, but let’s be real, they’re still me under the hood. How convenient that this badass rogue woman and this undead man and this magical girl all have more dramatic versions of my baggage.

Occasionally I imagine my ideal self and they’re taller and have a more masculine jaw. I can’t really achieve that in real life so I try not to dwell on it too much. They’re also a lot calmer and more in tune with people around them though, and I think that’s an image worth keeping in my head.

So is this like talking about the zone out daydream stuff? Cause if so, I simply don’t exist. I pick one of the stories I’ve made and work on them instead. Or replay some of my favorite scenes.

If this is about the mental image of myself, it’s either a formless stream of consciousness, or when I’m berating myself I almost acknowledge it as a different person

My inner memory is very blurry so to speak, so trying to imagine myself always leaves me feeling weird if I look in a mirror. So I try not to. Otherwise my memories are generally from a 3rd person view which while hard to describe makes perfect sense in my head.

In my imagination I’m always a scarred, grizzled old lady. That’s if I imagine myself at all, I don’t super often.

in my dreams i’m lesbian Morticia Addams from the 60’s.

Father. Husband. Son Brother. Uncle. Artist. Wrangler of hardware. Defeater of steel. Bastion against oppression and corporate greed. Etc etc etc etc etc

My perfect me is more feminine and a leader of a silly little Queer town :3

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On an existential level, a cosmic blip of conciousness inhabiting a stinky primate. Totally insignificant on the grand scale, but also my own personal god. Ultimately, my experience begins and ends with me, so who else but myself should I seek to please? Dont get me wrong, I’m not a sociopath, one of my many joys in life (for which I feel incredibly fortunate) is being kind and loving to my friends and family, helping others to succeed in their goals and being a positive influence in general.

I also beleive us to be in a deterministic universe, so you might call one a “perfect version” of themselves, in that they are exactly where they always would have been.

Given my mystic/esoteric follies, and my general flare for the dramatic, I tend to blend my mind’s eye form with what I try to appear as in astral: Usually some variant of myself, usually differently shaped, preferably with wings or horns, or both.

I don’t care for my looks from the neck down, despite my husband’s constant insistence that I’m beauty incarnate.

I consider myself the ruling entity of my Mind Palace, with the occasional spirit or other entity sometimes taking precedence. I’ve never thought of myself as important, most likely due to my being raised Evangelical, but I’m finding more and more people think of me that way, much to my utter discomfort and confusion.