Words from my Heart

The Real Me

I’m Ianne.

You might know my real name.

You might be as well my friend, personally or through social networking.

When I’m still a child of about 3-5 years of age; people say that I’m a ‘bibo’ kid.

During my primary level in school, they say I’m a silent one; while when I’m in my intermediate years, they say I’m such a crying baby.

And when I’m in secondary level, they say I’m a nerdy type.

And now I reached my college degree, people thinks of me as a wild, rebel, childish, even sometimes, a b*tch.

But, all of them we’re wrong.

They really not know me.

What they just knew is my name and a mask.

Even my family, they not know who I am or what I really am. Cause no one ever tried to know me.

No one ever saw the real me.

They judge me for what they see. But never have a time to really see me.

You know what I’m just waiting for someone to tell me….

“Don’t hide or pretend because I know you more than you do.”

Whenever I’m smiling or laughing my lungs out, I want someone to look at me straight through my eyes and tell me…

 “I can see your pain through your eyes.”

Whenever I’m crying, I want someone to ask me…

“What else?” or “Is there more?”

Whenever I’m excited, I want someone to tell me,

“I’m more than happy for you.”

There are more things I want and it will cost me too much time and effort to tell you everything…

Well in fact, what I’m really trying to say is, I want someone (that you might also want), even just one, to make me he or she knows me more than I knew myself.

I don’t want to feel these things inside me, these things I don’t really know either. It’s just that I feel so alone even there are so many people around me.

And I can say I have a lot of friends…

Me, I consider them one… I just don’t know if they consider me as one too.

Yes, I have a lot of friends but no one of them ever knows me. A sad thing is even my best friend seems like doesn’t know me at all.

I don’t know why people are like that, or maybe it’s just me.

But what hurts so much is when they judge me; well in fact they don’t even bother to know the story behind every front attitude I made them see.

But in this short essay of mine, I want to let everybody know that, what know as Ianne is not yet the real Ianne.

I’m just waiting for someone to make me comfortable enough to let each and everyone see…

…THE REAL ME.