Living the Wallflower Life

Misconception is the definition of me. I am perceived by the false image that I cast, by the mask that I wear on that day. I am held accordingly to their standards and judged as they see fit. I am what they believe I am to be, and my reflection is a mere illusion. And only a few know the real me.

I am but a ghost walking this road of life. My eyes take in the world, but does the world see me? Does it see my pain, my sadness, my passion, or even my love? Am I seen, or am I just standing there, a flower on the wall? Will I fade too soon before my reflection breathes truth of the one living deep inside, or will all my layers fall down one day to reveal me?

My voice is an echo in the void. I try to talk, but does anyone hear? My words stumble over one another, trying to speak the thoughts screaming inside. I follow the circles of conversations, trying to fill in the gaps, but it is as if I had never spoken. The conversations circle again, and again I try to speak. But my words fall deep as an echo in the void.

I feel as if I am a jagged puzzle piece refusing to fit perfectly into place. I try not to draw too much attention to my presence. I live as I breathe, and I breathe as I dream. Every day is the same, and with each night, the candle burns as I write my heart, my soul out upon the page, the screen before me. I yearn for the world and for the world to know me, but I have yet to find the perfect place here.

I linger over the sands of time, watching every year fade and reborn. Time has left its scars on me, trials long gone, and who is this stranger sitting beside me? Only a thin veil of glass divides us, and there is something familiar in her eyes. Does she still smile as she once did as a child, who loved nothing more than life? Do her eyes continue to sparkle with each grain of dreams filling her mind? Does love remain in her heart? Where has the moments of my life gone, and will this stranger beside me be all that is left?