Please don't say that I am faking it. You may never know which one is projecting me because of the fact you don't live inside this body and your body do not possess this soul and you do not understand, interpret, undergoes every piece of whatever this being had went through. You have your own.
That is not the case. I am what went wrong, actually. I can't see under my skin to dissect what I really am or what I pasted to pretend I am. I am sad most of the times but I am able to laugh like nothing is going wrong in this world. I am thinking and I am thinking and I think and I overthink and I overthink thinking of trying not to overthink.
Of course, I can't see how others sees myself and they can jump into conclusions as they see me living around just fine. Of course, of course, I can't blame them if their perspective doesn't align with mine. It's like seeing light through a periscope from different angles, seeing different fraction lights, from the same place.
See me as you think I am. Whatever idea of me you have inside your mind.
I am fitting in, I am blending in, I am belonging. I do what is needed to fit in so you can see my different handwriting from when I was 13 and 16 or you can see me when I am near you and when you're not in sight. Think: the only thing that is constant are changes.
I am probably innately hope-less, as in my hopes tank are empty as much as the faith to fuel me is draining (I am hopeless too, as in I can't be hoped on anything) but I run on different other state of fuel. I run on other people's hope on me for the applause or merely shows off. I also run on the determination to run from others' expectation and responsibilities, commitments, perhaps the only thing in my to-do list that keeps me in motion.
The thing is, I won't be sure anytime soon of whether I am depressed or not, stressed out or not, or understand what state I am in but let's excuse the anxiety part as it is the only thing thats glows from my being and it's so there I can't hide it. Maybe in the future I'll realize I been wrong on that too but right now it's clear and right now, that is all that matters.
Okay maybe I had faked some parts on that paper to look like I am a bit less of the labels they put beside the numbers but I am still in the same labels, I don't know what to do, "should I lie on this?" but I had let myself belong. "It doesn't mean much" I keep on shoving that down my throat but the weight of the labels weights down on me lately and I think, "fuck that" but it seems they keep on crushing me.
Living behind. Behind is dark. Dark.
