You don't know me.
If I am being honest, no one really knows me.
This persona that I wear comes off at night when I am home alone and can wallow in the life I have wishing that I had the life I wanted.
Which doesn't necessarily mean that the life I have isn't one that I have worked hard maintaining.
But it is tiresome.
There are times when I don't know myself.
I know the person that I would like to be.
The person that used to be the one I couldn't get away from fast enough when others discarded me.
That person had a lot more fun.
That guy trusted a lot more.
He loved being in love.
To be honest, even if it wasn't right, he would've sewn together the red flags to make a parachute for when he needed a smooth landing.
He doesn't know me, but I know all about him.
I know the kisses he shared with men who thought of him in the moment and not the long haul.
I never can understand why he thinks life was worth going through all that pain.
For what?
Trauma?
Heart ache and heart break?
The death of friends?
Becoming another background person?
Who knows?
I know him. He doesn't know me.
YOU don't know me.
And yet, I will spend time trying to show you the real me.
I will laugh with you.
I will share my aspirations with you.
From time to time, I may even share my love with you.
Until you stop trying to find out who I am.
When you get bored and decide that I am disposable.
And maybe that is my fault for picking such unsuitable suitors.
Or relying on weak shoulders to help me get sturdy when I have fallen.
Maybe I should believe in your god.
Maybe I should be everything that I am not for your acceptance.
Will you know me then?
Will I know myself?
It's hard to recognize the man that I see when I look in the mirror.
So much of him has faded over the years.
It's like life took all the things that made life worth living and crushed them in the gears.
And the majority of people out there in the world would rather see me crushed, than to see me thriving.
I'm prepared to live this way.

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