I look at myself,
All the people who know me,
All the people who don’t,
And I realize that no one knows me,
No one knows me because I don’t let people know me,
The thought of someone seeing the person behind the mask scares me,
All anyone sees is the character I have created for them,
A little different for each person,
But enough of the same in each so as not to make them suspicious,

But when the thought of living out life as someone else hits me,
It hits like a stone to the chest,
Knocking the air and the nerve from me,
My mind screaming to let the real me out,
To tell everyone who the real me is,

And then it hits me,
I don’t know the real me,
I don’t know who I am,
I have spent my whole life tying to hide,
And I have forgotten who I really am on the inside,

I pick up my senses,
And I collect up my masks,
But when I go to throw them out,
When I finally decide to find out who I am,

I can’t,

I can’t stop being my masks,
No one would understand,
They’d think I had lost it,
When in actuality I have found it,

I have found the real me,
Or someone who I think is me,
And I like her,
There is no falsity to her,
She is just herself,

But I can’t seem to get into her,
I can’t seem to put her on,
She isn’t a mask,
She just is,
And I don’t know how to reach her,
And that hurts more than anything