I am an ordinary girl with no extraordinary qualities, constantly complaining over cliched problems, maintaining an average life amidst a middle-class home

Once a friend told me, in a fit of passion - or rather, petulance - that my personality was nothing but a smorgasbord of clumsy experiences and a mimicry of unfit role models.

She said my humour was not my own. My way of speaking and my unusual overconfidence was something I had learnt from having a childhood with other decile-three school students. She said that all I did was imitate bits of everyone around me in order to create the being that I am.

And when she said this (obviously, not in the same words), I was offended - taken aback. How dare she accuse me of being a phony; a copy; a replica of people that had influenced me in my short life?

In return, I spat insults and threw hurtful words because she had gotten under my skin. I realised she was right. I was nothing but everything around me.

But aren't we all? Why is that something I needed to be ashamed about? What am I without the family that raised me, the friends I make, the media I entertain myself with, and the adventures I endeavour.

I still remember this argument, as long ago as it was. But now I'm not offended, mainly because there was no reason why it should be offending. Why be ashamed of my character being moulded from my environment and my living? How is that insulting, in any way?

Because you try think about each and every aspect of your personality, whether it's a good aspect or a not-so-good one. All of it can be credited to something or someone in your life.You don't wholly own any part of your identity.

But, I guess I just want to say, that's okay. Neither do I.