Insecurities

The vastness of my insecurities is equal to the ironic pleasures of being myself when no one else expects me to

With that being said, what do people even expect of me?

And now that I'm realizing this, what do I think of myself?

Do I really really fulfill all of my unnoticed expectations?

Or am I just kidding myself by pretending that some things are fine when I know I shouldn't be happy

But I cannot fathom on why I can act so proud on the outside but on the inside, I'm scared of what people will think of me

I'm scared a person will look at me and say,

"why does he look so funny?"

“Why does he walk funny?”

"Why is he so big?"

"Why is he so ugly?"

“Why?..."

"Why?..."

And I cannot answer your questions on why this or why that

But I will answer proudly that I am me

And that nobody will be a better me than myself

But then I forget that I don't know who I am half of the time

So I wander in my own mind

I get on the bus of my emotions and imagination and I take every stop I can get so that when I'm at the end of the route

I'll finally have scraped up enough self confidence to go back out there in the real world to be a little less scared for what’s out there the next time I have to go back