Protagonist

I, am a deeply flawed person. I rarely exist devoid of performing Writing this, I romanticize my modesty, virtue signaling my humility. Another set of eyes sit behind my mind Always an audience watching as I play my character. Soliciting empathy from my made up audience watching, judging, loving, commiserating Selfish Narcissist Hollow A sham A good person doesn't call themselves good Or deny their goodness for the appraisal of an invisible being. I deserve more guilt I hurt people I stress people I take more than I give I'm selfish Narrativizing myself I hurt people They fade into forgotten roles into the background forsaken. I stay in the foreground The thoughts of the protagonist ring louder, greater than the breath of any other. Verbose ignorant and ridiculous. Who am I Without an audience Without an audience Just one of many limited, as any feeling, as any flawed, as any Implicitly egocentric, as any I can only try to decenter to move closer to being true to being, naturally to being better to others Recognize truth. Decenter yourself.