"You're such a coward."
"Fake."
I am both things, yes. I decided to lock my real self inside the realms I have crafted inside me and tame it to not find the urge to show up in moments I don't need it to. Call me a coward. Call me a fake. But once upon a time, I let all that I meet see me for who I am. If they love me despite of what they see, good, I told myself, just be and continue being. If they leave, fine, no big deal. Until I found myself lying on a hard sofa of regrets with a huge bottle of beer in one hand, a cigarette on the other, and tears in both eyes. I have come to understand that there will be moments in our lives when we will get more damaged when we let temporary people know the real us, every bit of wound and cracks and creases included, and unknowingly let them take advantage. You then try to convince yourself that you should not feel sorry for the way you are and not everything you lose is a loss, but then you found yourself lost and the only one defeated.
So allow me to be a coward for now. If you think I'm a fake, no problem. It's a broken's way of protecting himself from unnecessary pain. But I'll proudly say I have learned to take control. I will be an open book, and like open books, I'll only show two pages and you can't flip onto the next one until I say so. My true, genuine self and the weaknesses it holds still lives. And I will only show it to people who deserve to know it.
I will only show it and let it love and be loved by those
who deserve me.
YOU ARE READING
Mediocrity
PoetryA collection of poetry and prose that border on mediocrity. Do not expect anything great here.
