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To see me for me would be a miracle indeed.
But how could you see what I know not in myself?
How can I show you something I don't know how to express?
Why am I this person, why can I not be me?
Or perhaps this is me, perhaps this is all I ever was.
But surely I am more, surely I have better things to show,
Surely I'm a more worthy person then I know how to portray.
It's like I'm wandering a forest of a thousand paths,
Each path branching into another thousand paths endlessly.
If only I could see the tracks then perhaps I wouldn't wander so aimlessly.
Perhaps I wouldn't continue to find myself in this horrible place, in this feeling of insufficiency.
Perhaps I would have more to show for who I am.
But I am this.
No one can see me.
Not for who I am,
Not for who I feel I am,
Not for who I could be.
Just this.
All I hope is that someday you'll see more.