A stranger to myself.

I have played a role my whole adult life. I have been on stage. I waited for the applause. I have been an entertainer.

I don’t know who I am. I am empty. Or perhaps I am filled with plastic. But I am not real. I am a toy at the whims of what I need to be not what I have to be.

I want to shed my skin. I want to drop my chains. I need to let go and become who I was called to be.

But who is this man I need to be? Do I need to create another role for myself? That’s my first instinct. Become another persona. I wouldn’t do it to impress others. I’m genuinely looking for myself. But can I be found somewhere else? Am I somewhere else to be found?

Most likely who I am is inside me. I have locked myself out of shame and I have missplaced the key. So I guess the answer to the question of me is in me. Keep asking the questions.

I’m not who I am. But I long to sing I’m not who I was. 

Lord, who am I? I will drop this act. But I can’t do this alone. I don’t have the strength. I don’t have the courage. I want to be know. But I will pay the price with tears.

I will be carried when I can’t support myself. I will learn to crawl. I will walk. And finally run with maturity.

I say goodbye to this me. I will be cautious of this new person. Where will this one take me/us?

Hello stranger.

A stranger to myself.

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