I wake up in the morning and I thank god that I have the gift of another day.
Life as I know it: my kids, my sisters, my mom, my students, my clients,
the things that makes me laugh, the things that makes me cry.
Life as I know it- is a series of events that I am accustom to,
I respond to, I partake in
and fulfill the expectations of.
Life is a series of responses that I give.
I smile, I laugh I respond to things that I am suppose to respond to;
if I don't people may thing I'm crazy.
Maybe I am crazy;
crazy to believe that I can keep lying to myself and everyone around me.
Crazy to believe that no one will ever know the truth, no one but me.
I have depersonalization.
According to the encyclopedia of the this century Wikipedia " depersonalization "is an anomaly of self-awareness. It consists of a feeling of watching oneself act, while having no control over a situation; Subjects feel they have changed, and the world has become vague, dreamlike, less real, or lacking in significance; It can be a disturbing experience, since many feel that, indeed, they are living in a "dream" ( WIKIPEDIA, 2012).
This is my life on a day to day basis; a vicious cycle of pretense
pretense of presence
of which no one knows the difference.
I suppose I should be grateful now that I have something to call myself besides crazy;
after all trying to explain that your entire existence feels like a permanent state of non existence
is not something you say when you have two masters degrees
and is considered to be very intelligent, insightful and profound
by colleagues and friends.
There simply is not enough room for truth,
so I continue to live the lie.
I exist
but I don't,
I am-
but I'm not,
I am the truth
but I am also a lie
now whatever you think you now about me,
let me assure you it cant be true
I still am trying to put the pieces together
to know me.
I am a robot existing in a state of autonomy
with dejavu
clairvoyance
lucid dreams
and sometimes even premonitions
but so what?
I am simply random.
Am I the only one?
is this a case of the emperor's new clothes
except I am the only one who realizes that I am naked?
I lie to myself,
I lie to my children, I Iie to those who think they know me
and those who think I know me.
If I could tell my truth
it would be:
I am merely a reflection of who you want me to be,
a reflection of who you see or assume that I am
because the real me is outside this body.
The real me is looking at what you see
wishing that I could see a true reflection.
Instead I am still left to wonder
who is that looking back at me in the mirror?
We share a body but not a space.
I don't identify with what looks back at me,
I don't feel her skin as my skin
or her eyes as my eyes
I see someone that looks at me
wondering who I am
when I search for my reflection.
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