Be myself?
Be yourself they say.
Do they know who I am?
Do they know that for me I is plural?
Do they know what a fucked person We are?
Me a fascinating concept,
Who am I?
Am I the 4 year old,
The 8 year old,
The smart one,
The teen boy so laid back,
The angry one,
Maybe I’m the southern one,
Or the self assured one,
The quiet one,
The one who holds the math,
Or the stutterer,
Just who the hell am I?
Be myself, if only I knew who I,
Who We, are.
If I am myself, I am despised
If I am someone else,
I am a liar.
If I put on the happy face,
Make believe I’m like you,
Then I’m ok.
But guess what,
I am most definitely not OK!
Twisting in the wind,
Breaking boundaries,
Talking too much,
Talking over people,
Never knowing
Who I’ll be
One minute to the next.
I try to be present,
Be Maureen,
But the others want time
In the body too.
They want to be heard,
kind of like you.
Being myself gets me nowhere.
No one likes who I am.
They call me liar,
Faker,
Crier of wolf,
They don’t know,
They are not me,
They have not lived
The life we lived.
They didn’t need
Others just to survive.
They think they know
Me,
But deception comes easy
Over time and space.
We fill in gaps
With laughter
Or anxiety.
We create reality when reality escapes us.
It isn’t lies, just careful perception.
What’s going on?
Wait and see.
Then join in when I know it’s me
Being myself has lost me friends
It loses girlfriends for certain,
Because the me that is host
Has open wounds,
And reacts badly too often;
Hurts easily,
Is impatient,
Talks too much too loud,
Fears everything,
And just plain annoys folks!
If I let another take control
Sometimes they know
Sometimes they don’t
Many they have seen
Not knowing at all
The difference between
My alters and I
I cover it up
I like to perform,
So they think
I’m acting
They just can’t see
What is right in their face.
The people who live inside my head
Know how to pretend,
Know how to be me.
Be yourself they say,
Great idea,
If only I knew who that was!
3/20/2010
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Why is it that I know who I am, what I am, and I love me, know I am good, kind, loving, generous, decent, and then at the same time I am insecure, unsure, afraid, and constantly making mistakes? How am I both of these people, the confident one, and the lost one? I’m torn, confused. I wonder if these are alters of me, or sides of me. I wonder if I’ll ever triumph over the dark side, the small side, the insecure side. I don’t want to be her. I am not her. I know me; I am smart, funny, capable, and cute as hell.
ReplyDeleteI sometimes don’t recognize this person who is living on the outside of me like some kind of costume I can never take off. I want it off. I want me to show, to shine. Look at me, I am perfect. I am happy, carefree. I skip, I play, I am; Freedom. There is nothing wrong with the me I see, the me I think I am. But then there is the me that wants to be out, to be seen, not for attention like some think; no, not attention for me, for my pain, but attention for the pain and suffering of so many who didn’t survive. I survived. I am alive because I am strong and perfect and because the love of God, the light of the Universe is in me and I am unreachable by the nastiness of the world.