If You Knew Me

All This Time

You know what Ben said tonight?

He said that if you’re trying to change yourself

To please somebody else,

You’re shaming who you really are.

That struck me.

Hard.

It made me realize

That all this time,

I have been pretending to be someone I’m not—

Someone smarter,

Prettier,

More desirable,

More beautiful—

All for you.

All for your attention.

And it wasn’t who I was.

It was for you.

But then I realized that maybe,

Maybe all this time,

I don’t know who I am—

I just know what I’m not.

I’m not a flirt.

I’m not an extrovert.

I don’t parade things around for people to see.

I don’t beg for attention.

I live in my own little world,

Inside my head,

The only place where my dreams come true.

So my next question is—

Are you worth it?

Are you worth the sacrificing of myself?

Honestly?

No.

As much as I loved you,

I don’t want you if the cost is losing myself.

All this time—

Every time I was around you,

I would become a second person,

Ever so slightly,

Ever so subtly.

Now looking back I see the conscious efforts,

Which make me feel so fake.

Maybe that’s why I wasn’t good enough for you,

Because you could sense that I wasn’t who I am.

(I doubt that’s the reason,

But it’s possible.)

Who am I?

I know what I’m not,

But not what I am.

And if I don’t know,

Who does?

I guess if I think about it…

I’m quiet.

I’m reserved.

When I fall, I drown.

I hide things away.

I try to look strong.

I don’t always cope with emotion the best way.

Thoughts of suicide are no stranger to me.

I love beauty.

I love capturing it in my words and pictures.

I think really deep about everything.

In fact, I over-think and over-analyze everything.

I want to be a mother.

I have a deep desire to belong to someone.

I want to leave a mark on the world.

I want to be remembered.

Somehow, I am whole in my brokenness.

I hear God in music.

Maybe,

After all this time,

I do know myself.

I don’t have to change myself to be noticed,

Because when the right man comes along,

He’ll love me for me—

Not for what I pretend to be.

And that’s good enough.

That’s love.