There is a me deep inside of myself that is crying to be set free. I can hear the cries in all that, I do! I try to simply ignore it, but the more I grow the louder the other me becomes. I never leave myself in peace. The other me is always with me in everything I do. Watching me, wanting to remember what I use to be. To remember that at one point and time we were one. But as I age and the people come and go from me, I realize that the other me will always remain.
The real me remains, even when times seem hopeless, and distance. Always there to comfort me, simply asking why must everyone treat us like so? Why must we pay the high price? At times I understand, and agree, but the adult side of me answers that some one must pay for those who can’t not take the blame as their own. And it for those ‘the weak’ I am who I am.
But the real me doesn’t agree, the real me demands to be set free. Demanding to be heard. Wanting people to see the truth behind my mask I wear. Yes the real me screams to be seen, to be known. Yet I know that if such things were to be, it would simply cause more conflict then the fake me causes. I wouldn’t hurt the ones I love like that, so I continue to hide. Letting no know the real me, not letting any one to close to discover my secrets.
The real me begs to let everyone know I am not always as I appear to be. I am not always the smiling girl that wants to be sweet and cute. I sometimes want to stop in the middle of the street yell out “Look at me, look at the REAL me.” And the real me inside couldn’t agree any more. The real me jumps up and down with joy when I feel like that, like it is something I would really do? To let everyone know the real me, is something I could never let happen.
I try so hard to hide the real me, even from myself. I sometimes even I loose contact with the real me. The voice that I listen to seems to disappear and leave’s a hand full of questions. I wonder if I do that to myself simply out spite? Do I try to confuse myself so I can blame others for my feelings deep within me, the feelings that cause me to doubt who and what I am. But then somewhere inside my wore out soul the voice returns. Demanding for me let go. To stop this game I am playing.
My secret little game, the one I have became the master in, at this game no one can beat me. I know I am safe in the mask I wear, nothing could ever destroy it. I have wrap myself with it’s appearances, never letting on that might be more to me than what you might see. But some where, I can’t lie to myself. For I know of my lies, the falsehood I live in my day to day living. For the real me sees the lies I live, and the hurt I buried. The real me is the only person I really ever feel comfortable with, yet at the same time the real me makes me the most uncomfortable. Perhaps I am crazy, but only one person knows for sure…
The real me makes me feel as if I were nothing more than a small child again. Correcting me in all of my wrong doings, yet teaching me to learn from them. And most of all I know, that no matter what happens the real me won’t ever lie to me, or abuse me, or leave me. It’s these things I never want to go through again, and somewhere the real me knows that is my worst fear. For I have felt that anger of a lover, the lies of a parent, or the loss of some one special. It’s these things that make my mask possibly, even the real me won’t fight that.
I always try to avoid these topics with myself, or others that claim they know me. For they could never know what really lurks within. Thoughts, feelings, emotions that are not apart of me, nor apart of the game I play. But someday I know someone will figure out the game I play, or worst even they might see the mask I wear? God forbid that these things really happen. For I know I would surly go insane…
Maybe I am already insane? Maybe the real me has lost its hope to re discover whatever it had lost. Maybe the real me is my sane side? Or maybe it just makes me feel more sane when I can sense it close bye. For I know if the real me ever leaves me alone completely I wil have lost all chances in this world. I know that somewhere inside of me the answers are there, but I think I am simply to scared to look deep enough.
Scared isn’t the word to describe how I would feel if I found out the complete truth about myself. I suppose that is way the real me deals with them. See I am crazy, I think of my feelings, thoughts, and emotions as things. Just mere little things running around inside of me. Having a party of some kind, never bothering to ask my opinion on the matter. Never pausing to wonder how their actions effect me. But I am not worried, because my protecter is with me. And always will be.
But I suppose someday I will have to stop this childish game I play, and take off my mask. Someday I know that the real me will force their way through, and make them self known to all. And my little perfect image will be shattered. But it doesn’t matter, cause deep down I know I am no ways near perfect as I think I am. But I also know that the real me is a little bit closer to perfection than I. The real me, no she, accepts her flaws with her strong points. Never doubting herself, always pushing forward…
She never wants others to look at what she is, but what she has done. She always takes others at face value and never thinks twice about her judgment. Never needing others to approve her work, not caring if they liked what they saw or not. I think that is where we are the most different. I need others to tell me what I am good in, what I lack. But every time someone does I can hear her scream, she yells that they should mind their business. And simply leave us out of it. That they should be more concerned with their lives than ours.
I find myself wondering more and more these days if I am growing weaker or that maybe she is growing stronger? Will she someday state what she feels is rightly fully hers? Then maybe I could rest in peace? Let my guard down and live as I want to live? To be the real me? Or maybe this is nothing more than a sweet dream, one in which I will leave unfinished? Maybe someday I will even let her show through? To show others that I am not the push over everyone thinks I am? Or maybe I am just kidding myself? Someday will tell the truth I suppose?
Until then I guess I am struck in this role I have set before myself, and shall never fall from it’s shadows? I suppose it really don’t even matter much either? For I can’t even think of one person that would care if I changed? Nor do I think any one would miss me, or cry for such a loss? But yet I know that somewhere down within I know she sees every thing, hears every thing, and cares for only me. Selfish? I suppose, but then again is there really anyone else that cares just for me?
I know she will always be with me, to hear my cries, to wipe away the tears. To agree with me even when I know am wrong. To simply know that there is someone that loves me, and just this once I won’t be shamed to say I love me for being me…
Someday I know that all of this might come true, and if and when it does I will owe it to no one but my self, I will not thank any one but