Me & I

I live, I laugh

I eat, I sleep

I blink, I breathe

It’s hard.

I still do it.

I seem happy.

I convince myself I am.

I feel a lot — too much to handle.

So I pretend — too well to be noticed.

I am quiet, calm, lively.

I always smile.

I look sane.

I am order and perfect.

That’s what everyone sees.

That’s all I show them.

I am also anxious, stressed, depressed.

I cry more than I admit.

I feel crazy.

I am chaos and flaws.

They never see that.

I make sure they don’t.

How am I?

No one ever asks me that.

No one ever bothers about how I feel.

But who am I?

Other than this imposter —

this person faking being alive.

Why am I?

Made for perfection?

Or expectations?

Or just a show

of always doing the right thing?

Who is this exhibit?

Why is this exhibit?

What is this exhibit?

With two different sides

that are nothing alike —

one for the world, one for mine.

So who am I?

Or maybe that’s the wrong question.

Maybe it was never Who am I?

Maybe it was always…

Who is I?

— V 🌗