I was once told that I should be me.
Authenticity matters, being you is beauty and gallant
So I went on and became proud of me.
As I walk alone the corridors and hallway...
embracing “Me” with might and glory.
All I saw was the eyes full of disgust and sourness.
Me. What I am is not beautiful.
What I am is not what they deem authentic.
What I am is gross, ugly, pathetic and all sorts of bland.
Who I am, despite of what God gave me is not who I supposed to be.
Authenticity is not who you are but who they want you to be.
So slowly, I started to crumble in pieces.
The “Me,” who protects my identity and realness was forced to be vulnerable and lonely.
And as I reach the room, I found myself hiding behind a façade.
The me, who I was proud and in love before was being cursed and hidden now.
Trying to make it through, for she knows that my happiness is hers.
But she should not be me anymore. For she is not what I’m supposed to be.
The me who I value before is being scorn by myself.
And as I try to change who I am, as I try to be who they want to be.
I found myself a complete stranger.
And the real me, the authentic me, became a weak enemy that I keep on destroying each day.
Until one day, I looked at myself in the mirror. All those changes, all those newness, the beauty, the recognition, the appreciation and romance. She got everything that “ME” was rejected to have.
But despite of newness being the new me. I realized that I don’t know her anymore.
I looked at myself, trying to find the “ME” that I know. She’s gone, she’s hidden in the depth of my soul. All hurt, wounded and in pain, I went to her, I asked her why is she still here. She should’ve left me a long time ago.
She told me that I was a part of her. The real me, the ones that I made nice memories with, the ones that shaped who I am. She will never leave, despite of the pain I’ve caused her.
For when there comes a time that I decided to embrace her proudly again. Despite of the broken limbs and shattered mind, she will offer her hands again.
But I can’t. Despite of hurting her, I am afraid of embracing her again.