The truth about it all is that some nights I’m in my room alone. I dim the lights, and I play “Seventeen” by Youth Lagoon. I close my eyes, and for that first verse you’re right here with me.
I’ve never been this lost.
I’ve also never felt more in touch with reality. I’m in the middle of a struggle with the notion that I’ve never known my true self. What I think I am trying to say is that, I can’t tell If I’ve lost myself, or simply found my true self. All I know, is that I’m unhappy with myself either way. I’ve matured from a completely self involved being, to one that lives outside of the self. In this relocation I have realized that I’m different people around different people. I think I have known this for awhile subconsciously, but in my new found conscious-awareness a key question arises.
Which one is the real me?
For years I thought I always knew, but I’ve been different people with different people for so long, I wonder if they all are the real me.
Is it possible that I’m both DMX and Malcomn X? Is it possible that I’m both Andy Warhol and Andy Milanokis? I don’t know the answers, and I’m almost sure I never did. I believe I’m very sane writing this, but as a reader I’m unsure if this sounds crazy. I’m not sure if I’m sure about anything anymore.
This confusion of the self is scary, and is affecting my creativity. . . I think. It’s either that or the profuse amount of marijuana I’ve introduced into my life as of late under the guise that It’s a creativity booster. I don’t believe it is, at least not for me. Either way writing has never been this excruciatingly hard for me. My words have never felt more thoughtless, and once again I’m struggling with the idea of being lost or found. I don’t know If I’m losing a talent, or realizing it was never there.
I wish to find myself, and be that self, no matter who it is. I only hope that I’m a beautiful soul, with the ability to make the world feel.
To Be Continued..