To tell you the truth...
To tell you the truth, because I don't tell anymore. Because I don't tell anyone anything anymore. Or at least never the truth. It's hard and it's a world of lies. Or maybe it's latching on to another identity. In this world of playing roles, and playing the perfect son, the perfect friend or the perfect student, I've given up on being the perfect person that I want to be. I've given up on being good or a perfect human being.
It's hard to even think of myself - keeping myself busy with so many worldly and material distractions that I don't know who I am anymore. I don't know what role I have or what role I am to take. Perhaps, it's trying to imagine myself as an actor - to associate myself with another character. To try and be directed into an identity - constantly; in every space and in every aspect of my life. But perhaps it's just me trying to run away from the truth again or to try and latch on to something else - some character or to find another identity.
It's very true that you've got to know yourself to be yourself and it's a struggle everyday. But perhaps nobody knows themselves. I don't know myself at all.
It's hard to speak the truth, because I'm constantly scared of saying it. I'm scared of what I think and what lies underneath. Am I scared of myself - maybe. I'm scared of revealing myself too. But most of all I'm scared of saying the truth. Ironically, this is, me telling the truth about myself.
For far too long I've gotten comfortable, I've evolved, yes, but I've evolved to be more comfortable - not with myself (I thought I was comfortable with myself all of this time) but comfortable with the world - and I realise I'm not as comfortable with myself anymore. Or maybe I'm still holding on to a lot of identities or I've lost them all.
In any case, it is true, I am scared to tell you the truths about myself, and I'm scared to even fight for myself. But most of all I'm scared I'm going to be selfish, because the past three paragraphs I've been selfish and begged for pity and perhaps confused you so much more. There's no clarity and there's no me - there's no desire to be.
If you've noticed I rarely write anymore - I am lazy. That is another truth. But I am also lazy because I don't want to deal with a lot of realities. Escapist and lazy.
In the truth, I want to be a better person and I want to be comfrotable with the world around me and myself. I want to be happy and good and not mean or sassy or a lot of other horrible labels I've put onto myself. And I yearn for something I don't know what. I yearn for greener grass when I don't have the courage to water anymore.
I don't know if I have shared the truth here. I apologise if I haven't. I don't want to lose out on anything just yet.
I'm scared of telling you the truth and I'm scared of sharing. But this is me being as brave as I can.
It's hard to even think of myself - keeping myself busy with so many worldly and material distractions that I don't know who I am anymore. I don't know what role I have or what role I am to take. Perhaps, it's trying to imagine myself as an actor - to associate myself with another character. To try and be directed into an identity - constantly; in every space and in every aspect of my life. But perhaps it's just me trying to run away from the truth again or to try and latch on to something else - some character or to find another identity.
It's very true that you've got to know yourself to be yourself and it's a struggle everyday. But perhaps nobody knows themselves. I don't know myself at all.
It's hard to speak the truth, because I'm constantly scared of saying it. I'm scared of what I think and what lies underneath. Am I scared of myself - maybe. I'm scared of revealing myself too. But most of all I'm scared of saying the truth. Ironically, this is, me telling the truth about myself.
For far too long I've gotten comfortable, I've evolved, yes, but I've evolved to be more comfortable - not with myself (I thought I was comfortable with myself all of this time) but comfortable with the world - and I realise I'm not as comfortable with myself anymore. Or maybe I'm still holding on to a lot of identities or I've lost them all.
In any case, it is true, I am scared to tell you the truths about myself, and I'm scared to even fight for myself. But most of all I'm scared I'm going to be selfish, because the past three paragraphs I've been selfish and begged for pity and perhaps confused you so much more. There's no clarity and there's no me - there's no desire to be.
If you've noticed I rarely write anymore - I am lazy. That is another truth. But I am also lazy because I don't want to deal with a lot of realities. Escapist and lazy.
In the truth, I want to be a better person and I want to be comfrotable with the world around me and myself. I want to be happy and good and not mean or sassy or a lot of other horrible labels I've put onto myself. And I yearn for something I don't know what. I yearn for greener grass when I don't have the courage to water anymore.
I don't know if I have shared the truth here. I apologise if I haven't. I don't want to lose out on anything just yet.
I'm scared of telling you the truth and I'm scared of sharing. But this is me being as brave as I can.
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