real

i thought i knew me
but the me i thought i knew
wasn’t really me at all
just another clever disguise—an illusion
a person that really doesn’t exist
a creation of my own deepest needs and fears
 
it was the person i thought i needed to be
in order to be valued
in order to be worth loving
 
but how does someone
who really does not exist
hold any value at all?
except from this fickle and fleeting world
 
living a lie
to gain applause and approval
the false for the false
under the guise of true
why is it so hard to tell the difference?
to see and recognize the real—and the false?
 
as long as the false is present
the true is hidden
it can’t be lived
and what is the process of discovery?
how is the imposter unmasked?
how do i see the real face underneath?
the naked truth?
 
wear a mask long enough
and you forget you have it on
it becomes who you are—
or you become who it is
until you realize
until you are awakened—
come home to yourself
 
isn’t that what this life is really about?
becoming—
undressing—
letting go of all you thought you knew
in order to discover the true—
the real
the beautiful
waiting underneath.