You think you know, think you understand. The me you assume I am is going to disappoint you. I’m not who you think I am.

I’m not easy. I’m not difficult.
I’m not simple. I’m not complicated.

I’m nothing and everything you’d expect, so abandon your assumptions now.

I want what I want, when I remember that I want it. I look outside to remind myself to look within. I smile when I want to cry, cry when I should be laughing. My life is an open book yet I remain a mystery, the me I withhold from you and everyone. Now and then a comment, a glance, a moment or two passes and you catch a glimpse of it, of me, and I see that it startles you, the crack in my armor that reveals myself to you. By the time you acknowledge it, the moment has passed and I’ve returned to the person you equally don’t know.

I want you to let me be, let me continue down this well-beaten path that I know so well, where I’ve trudged long and far that even in the darkeness it’s familiar. And yet the familiar somehow seems false, the ritual now forced. I’m afraid of what may come, what may lie ahead, because I feel you’ve seen too much and won’t adhere to my wishes.

Or maybe it’s because you know I’m a liar.