I'm afraid that I'm not who I think I am.
Everyday my passive self runs through the motions of everything else around me. And every time I confront that everything.., I feel as if it would spit me out upon noticing what's true. Noticing the very thing that I have yet to find. The thing that I don't want to find.
Because if I were to ever learn who I actually am, I'm afraid I'd be disappointed. Maybe even conflicted, if the finding contrasts with the self that doesn't violate the norm. That part that allows me to make it through each day. The part that keeps others in good spirits.
I'm afraid to find out.
Just a few weeks ago I met a girl. Her whole presence enchants me. Makes me dream. And though it's embarrassing to say, I think I'm inspired by her. Inspired by the unattainable. The holy. Her impression is the kind that makes me talk to myself at night and speak aloud about what I'm thinking.
But the thinking is what makes things worse.
It was yesterday that she had given me a sign. A sign of interest that is. Or was it commitment? My world became bright at the realization and even brighter at the constant thought. But as always that doubting voice about your own happiness starts to show. And the heart begins to sting. Who am I to decieve her out of someone more worthy? Someone who knows themselves? Someone who isn't afraid of themselves? This was a mistake. It had to be. She had been drawn to my passive self and to the self that keeps things moving. That same self that everyone is able to digest.
But here she is. A victim of my own confusion.
She doesn't need this.
She doesn't need the unholy. She doesn't need the effort of helping me. Of changing me. Of weeding through me.
Because she doesn't know me. And only love can take on that work. Not attraction.
This is why I'm afraid.
This is why I detract from the familiar.
Because eventually someone is going to have to take on that work.
I'm just afraid that it might have to be me.
