Who am I when no one is looking?
When there isn't a reason to smile and pretend to be happy
When there isn't a person there to impress
When there isn't a reason to obsess over my appearance
When there isn't a need for constant validation
When there isn't a plea buried deep in my eyes, begging someone to just say something nice
When the quiet I crave I finally obtain-
Who am I?
Am I still just as funny? Are my quirks still cute? Is my personality still interesting if there's no one to dispute? Do I still mean something, if there's no one to tell me?
Existentialism was never my ball game, but I find myself wondering all the same-
Who am I?
YOU ARE READING
Incongruity
PoetryThis is where I will put my poems about my experiences. I just want somewhere to store them. If they resonate with someone, then I'm glad to have at least been a voice of familiarity in a world that feels so full of solidarity. Also I usually only w...
