All this talk about fake people around me can make one forget that I too am fake. I have to admit it but don’t get me wrong – I’m trying to be real so I can have something to be proud of.
Being stuck in the middle of the person I am and the person I want to be is probably where most people are. The self-evaluation process only gets more clouded by the inclusion of the ego into the mix.
I cannot forget the people who know me, the people I came up with on the street corners and midnight lights. How hard it is to change their perspective through a lens painted over many years of colourful memories which we once labelled “the life”.
And what about those eyes which just happened to be looking on at the very moment when I let my guard down to release some stress from the daily efforts of being a young man trying to act my age instead of my shoe size.
And all the times that I did act my shoe size but had to lock that night away in a cold, dark closet along with all the other millions of secrets I keep. You wouldn’t be wrong to label an eight for this near perfect performance.
Maybe if I fake it long enough I will make it to the border and cross it never to return to my old ways. I set my eyes on a future prospect of a me who’s word is as true as my actions, I label it faith but with every passing error, I think I might never make it.
I’ve said it before and I should say it again, I feel so blessed with a curse. Growing up looking for understanding, eventually I found it but my hands were too small to pounce onto it. So I added more strength to grip onto it but eventually the shell cracks, if only I was gentle inside, maybe my hands would be too.
So that’s the verdict, I am Fake. I cannot pick a person to tell so I leave it here in writing for whomever shall concern himself. I could not govern myself so I’ll leave it to you to judge. Until another day when I’ve plucked up the courage to achieve the dream of being real…please take good care of me as I let out this precious scream.