I think I am beginning to feel claustrophobic, with the weight of my multiple personalities closing in on me.
One facet for friends, another for family, another for strangers. Another for the inner circle. Yet another for me.
I stand at crossroads and wonder which road to take, who to turn to, which mask to don, how much to bare, and when.
The steps that I take are measured, and I am tired of the endless algorithms that run my conscience and the pointless nodes that mark every decision, and yet at the end of it all, I find myself wondering yet again –
Which road to take, who to turn to, which mask to don, how much to bare, and when.
Who to block, who to face, what emotions to release.
What to speak, what to hide, where to run when it all collides.
My head swirls as I smile and I sigh and I exhale and I scream, as if all this were but a distant dream that I would want to get rid of and rise out of, pristine; and have clear water finally run off with the dirt of my skin.
To be free, liberty, aren’t these words but a sham, when I refuse to own up to all that I am?