I’m back with another poetic prose! This time, it’s from the perspective of a person questioning who they are and what their purpose is. So much of what we know about ourselves comes from what the people we choose to surround us with have to say about who we are. This is a piece about accepting that we are complex human beings who are so much more than can be contained within lines.
Happy reading! Xx
“I’ve looked into mirrors and asked who I am, never receiving the answers I seek.
I’ve been told I hold the brilliance of constellations; is that why, then, I’m so faraway and lonely? I’ve reached out to touch the stars, but I’ve been burned far too much before. I still hold onto the hope that I’d someday find a twin flame, a mirror image to my soul– the ones I’ve found, they’ve all slipped so far, somewhere I cannot reach.
And who am I?
I’m no constellation; just another heart yearning to be loved and cherished, the way I’ve only seen happen in stories. Would that be too much to ask, too much for those that never tried to understand me? I’m no constellation, for I hold no brilliance, but I do hold with me several unwritten verses and stories.
I’ve looked into eyes as deep as an abyss and sought warmth they could never hold.
I’ve been told I look for things non-existent amidst stories that remain unheard and untold. It should be far too easy to reach out for what is in front of me– but all I am is an insatiable need for all that my eyes cannot see. It is who I am, it is who I’ve always been. Try as I might, I’ve never wanted anything more than what lies beyond the ordinary.
And who am I?
I am curiosity unbound, hidden in those very depths I seek to dive into. I am nothing but that I want to discover, I’m so much more than what they perceive me to be. I’ve looked beyond the reality that lies vast in front of me, I’ve looked past the ties that bound me to this world’s gravity. I am, but, the need to venture a little further, just a little more.
No amount of questions will ever uncover the mystery I’ll remain to myself.
Who am I? I’ve asked myself more times than I could count. But all I am is is a stranger to myself, discovering unseen parts of me. I’ve grown to hate, I’ve grown to love, I’ve grown to cherish all that is me. I’ve bloomed, withered, and fallen to the ground, but I shall bloom once more.
I am nothing, something, and everything in one, but I am also so much more.”