You know exactly what everybody wants you to be — and you have a different mask to present to each one of them. You have a script to follow to make every audience praise you.
At work, you perform as expected — even better than expected — and you get attention and praise. But nobody ever knows the real you.
Among your friends, you have a different script. They expect you to be some particular thing — and you perform perfectly based on what they expect. But none of your friends ever know the real you.
At home, you know what your family expects to see from you — and you perform that script perfectly, too. But unknown to them, not a single one of them gets to know the real you.
In the moments when you allow yourself feel anything, you are bitterly lonely.
We’re neither friends nor enemies, just strangers who share the past
‘This path leads to somewhere I think I can finally say, I’m home’
When love finally dies, it’s like a fever breaks and the pain is gone
Society needs storytellers to help make sense of a changing world
My bad teen poetry suggests I’ve always hungered for missing love