Nameless
I wrestled with my mind thinking of how to start this piece. For hours I asked myself questions I did not have answers to. And now, at this moment, I’m furious.
Why?
I have lived two decades on earth and I still cannot tell you what makes me think the way I do. I cannot show you the bricks that build up my walls. Neither am I able to display a blueprint of a functional human being.
Actually, I am nameless.
I’m still trying to find the letters to construct my alias, what you or anyone chooses to call me is irrelevant, what I call myself matters more because I will always have me to fall back to. No matter what, the self is the vital part of my existence.
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What do I know so far ?
I believe I’m the guy at the empty bus stop, where leaves have covered the seats, dressed in an old Chelsea jersey waiting for my pickup that never shows up.
I’m the guy on his bed thinking of excuses to why I’m ignoring calls from friends who are inviting me to a party I never wanted to attend.
To better know me, I’m the guy you would call when you’re feeling down, the emotional support. Maybe I’m the wooden coat hanger. The one they think never breaks. But when I’m falling apart, none seem to notice, to care.
I’m the guy who would sacrifice my soul for the person I love, without expecting a goodbye. I know I would never get one anyway.
But,
How can I find myself when I know I need to let go of things that are obstructing me? I look at my reflection in the water and I see ripples constantly blurring my reality.
Maybe I need to pause, Isolate. As long as I’m moving, I’ll find something worthwhile.
