I move through the quiet alleyways like a ghost. Some days I feel like I’m just a shell, or that I’m fading away. Other days I feel too potent, too real, too noticeable and wish I could just melt into the background and avoid all the stares.
I smile and laugh with my friends, but, do they see me? Do they notice that past my beautifully painted exterior, my mask, my façade I’m an ocean of turmoil? Complex, and often misunderstood. So much more than I seem? Filled with hopes, dreams, and equal parts despair?
Who am I, to think that no one is as complex as I? Each person I interact with has depths and heights I may never know. Secret passions and struggles they may never share with me.