„Who am i?“

Who am i?

Shouldnt i ask you? -

why should i bother introducing myself

when you’ve already done it for me?

you take one look –

just one simple half hearted glance–

and build a whole biography out of fragments you never asked for.

Maybe you didnt even take the time to form a thought of your own, many others did it for you already.

My name does not matter anymore.

It sits on your tongue

too familiar, too common –

so i must be predictable, too ordinary,

or worse –

polished into something you resent.

my body doesn’t fit your neat little margins,

spills past your expectations,

so suddenly i am careless, undisciplined,

a story of failure you wrote without ever reading mine.

these glasses?

they turn into walls in your eyes –

i must be dull, maybe boring

quiet in the wrong ways,

interesting only in absence.

and when i don’t smile on command,

don’t perform warmth like a rehearsed line,

i become rude or arrogant,

a closed door –

Who do i even pretend to be?

The audacity to think i am any less fake than half of the people roaming this earth.

It doesnt even matter.

it’s almost impressive, really –

how quickly you assemble a person out of guesses,

how confidently you wear certainty almost like it’s truth.

But truth –

truth takes time.

truth asks questions.

truth listens.

and who has time for that when a lie is so much easier to love?

your versions of me are simpler, cleaner, more convenient than anything real.

They give you the chance to dismiss me They make it easy.

You know They carry no weight.

they don’t breathe.

but i do.

i am the pause you skip, the sentence you never finish reading, the story you decided was boring

before the first page turned.

I am half of the faces you meet every day

And every lonely soul

asking itself with a glance into a broken mirror

If there lies maybe carry just an ounce of truth

And if it were less of a fight to just settle into them completely

Good hearts, colorful hearts – greying under the eyes of society.

Dying a bit more with every whisper pointing like arrows.

so tell me –

who am i?

I am curious.