Someday

Who am I?

That's the name of a great song

From Les Miserables.

It tells the story of a man

And his struggle over his identity,

But in many ways

This is like me.

 

If you ask someone

“Who is that girl over there?”

And point to me,

They would probably tell you the truth,

Or at least make a joke

And tell a story based on how I appear to them.

 

But ask me the same question,

A question about myself,

A question I should know the answer to

Better than anyone else,

And I would not be able to answer.

 

Who am I?

Am I the girly girl that I appear to be,

Wearing twirly dresses and pearls?

Only sometimes.

 

Am I someone who just sits at home and watches movies?

Not all the time.

 

What do people see?

What do they think?

 

They see what I am on one particular day.

But that doesn't mean I'm not something else.

But what does that make me?

Am I hiding who I really am?

Do I put out an image that I want everyone to see?

 

I don't know.

I don't know exactly who I am.

What I put on display is only a part of me.

Because it's impossible to display

The entire person that I really am.

 

But what if how I appear

Is actually what I want to become?

Does that help me to reach my dreams?

Or does it suppress me

And make me think I can never be good enough?

Are my goals realistic?

Will I reach them someday?

Or just make it look like I have,

Call that good

And give up.

 

The real me doesn't give up.

 

Who am I?

I may not know the whole answer

But I do know something:

I hide behind a filter of certainty

Hoping that someday

I will be certain

And know who I really am.

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