I don’t know how to wake anymore.
I just… get up.
Put on the version of me that makes sense to the world.
The one they picked.
The one they praised.
The one I learned how to be
so I could stop being me.
Because every decision I’ve made?
Was for someone.
Every yes,to please.
Every no,to not offend.
And now I’m here,
lost in a life I agreed to,
but never actually chose.

Who am I?

I wear dresses for likes.
I eat meals that match the moment.
I learned hobbies just to hold conversations.
I picked a course because “they” would be proud.
But now I’m here,
and the applause has died down,
and I don’t even know what silence sounds like.

Who am I, when I’m not being consumed?

They say no man is an island,
but maybe I’m not a man.
Maybe I’m land that needs time.
Soil that needs stillness.
A place that needs to be mine,before it’s visited by anyone else.
You think you know yourself, ’cause you walk in crowds,
but if every piece of you is a reflection of “them”…who are you really?

Who told you what to like?
Who trained your voice?
Who laid the tracks you’ve been running for years?
Does God know you?
No, not the “you” that attends.
The “you” that bends, breaks, edits herself for acceptance.
The real you, does He know her?
Do you?
Because if you had to describe yourself with His words,
not theirs who would you be?

I’ll wait.

Or maybe don’t wait.
Maybe ask.
Maybe cry.
Maybe strip it all back and start over.
Because it’s one thing to be known by others.
It’s another to know yourself in the eyes of the One who made you.

Who are you…
when no one’s watching?