Real

Everyone has this perception of themselves that they want to show the world. It may not be who they are, but it’s who they want you to think they are. We espouse the virtues of ‘being real’ yet subtly, subconsciously, do everything possible to keep a large part of society from really knowing us.

I sometimes wonder how others see me. I wonder who really knows me. There are a few who are close. My ex can say he does; he’s seen sides of me that I never knew existed. There are a few others but generally, no one knows me. Sometimes I wonder if I know myself.

I think about sculpting my identity and making what I want others to see, more prominent, more there. By defining myself, I don’t allow others to define me. They have to use my definition, they have to adapt to what I decree…

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