MY SELF

MY SELF(Xavier) Who am i? And what am i trying to be? Identity this, identity that, yourself right, everyone else wrong. What does it take to be who i am? Can i even be me in the face of this time? is it realistic or just charmingly idealistic? Can i survive as me and if i do will i love me?
The times require defense, the term survival of the fittest wasn’t coined just for fun. protection, for the weak, is dead and the strong will survive. being me what will i be, weak or strong? being me, means going against all odds, swimming up river, raising the stakes and by God betting it all, because being me is a risk, it means laying it all bare, all the quirks, all the kinks, all the me.

I understand what it will entail, for what i am trying to be will cost. am i trying to be like everyone else, trying to be Harry, Jerry and Perry, and not trying to be me? Trying for everyone’s approval, basking in their brief and very judgmental smiles, soaking up their compliments, compliments like knives. they are not me and i am not them but i think being them is safe, i think their false smiles and their seemingly doe-eyed looks are pleasure. i think they accept me, i think they approve, i think i have found family, i think they love me, i think..............
I think, then why am i so sure that this facade sickens me, why am i disgusted and why do i drown in self loathing every minute of the day, why do the smiles and empty nods that i so much adored now i abhor. The sun isn’t shinning anymore, the clouds are grey, and the songs i used to sing are no longer lively and gay, there is no spring in my step, no tunes to whistle and if i had a cane instead of twirling it i would break it and swallow the pieces. I feel the pressure all around, like an anvil with faces, slowly crushing my soul. when did i get here? when did i care so much of what people said and thought? yes thought, because now i think i can read minds and i supposedly know what people are thinking about me, i know it’s me they are laughing at, i know, and it’s me they are talking about i am sure, i think.

I miss those days, when my internal monologue was about how bright the sun was, how clean the air smelled, about how much i would eat today, about the latest book, about what whatever fictional character would do in the latest manga, i miss those days, the days of calm and self confidence, confidence of who i was, the days i didn’t care who was who and what they said. i love those days and i want them back but not before i enjoy the sweet and sour days of wondering what to wear, or those days when i laughed and was not laughed at or those days when it was about the girls whose hearts i broke and made trophies of or whatever “evil” thing i did. But to do that i have to give up who am trying to be and be me. but why is it so difficult to do that? sure i hate who i am trying to be, then why can’t i just give that up and just be me? Why?