Who am I?
I'm not sure I know
I'm not sure I want to know
I know I don't want you to know

What if you don't like me?
Or accept me?

I can handle it if you don't accept the person I pretend to be
I don't think I could live with the idea of you not accepting the real me

So I hide myself.

I've spent many years building the shell in which I hide.
It may not be perfect
But it's safe.
And comfortable.

But occasionally, one can see who I really am

What I am.

Occasionally, I can see who I am

Why I am.

Sometimes, when I write,
the shell becomes transparent

And I'm there.

The real me.

Scared.

Vulnerable.

Alone.

Now you know a little of me
And so do I.

I'm not sure what frightens me the most

Your outward view

Or my inward glances

©Steve Sanderfer