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Have You Ever Been a Stranger to Your Self?

Do We Ever Know Who We Are?

By Moni V.Published 3 years ago 3 min read
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Have You Ever Been a Stranger to Your Self?
Photo by Vince Fleming on Unsplash

We think we know ourselves, or that we should. I mean, we live inside, we are the ones who move our steps, our lips, our hands to grasp the world and yet… how much do we even trust ourselves? Am I alone or is there others who can admit, who can look and say: I am a stranger to myself?

Does anyone admit to going away, to leaving ourselves alone? saying to life “one moment, I will be right back”, willing or not it matters not, have you?

I have. More often than not. I leave, lost, I go to a place where mirrors are not on the walls and I can rest from wondering who I am or ought to be. Then I come back, once more, and recognize that who I am, or was, or might want to be, .

I shift, I change, I ebb and flow within my own self, come in and out of sight. I am here, stay strong and focused and real and all that I believe I become. And then I’m gone once more. Fragile, uncertain, watching fingers and wondering where it comes from.

When I lose myself, when I go some places I don’t know, life feels empty, and cold. I’m there, yet I’m not, not , and no searching provides help, or comfort, or the warmth I so long for.

My mirror betrays me by reflecting a face not looking like I should look like. I’m older, weirder, not in tune with my expectations. Yet , me. Still, it’s not. It’s a temporary stranger hijacking my soul, my feelings and thoughts.

Or is it my body being betrayed? I’m unsure. I fail to talk to the stranger that’s me.

It never lasts, . A day, an hour, a days at the most. I say it’s the moon it makes me feel more human. I use excuses until it passes.

come and go, like night and day, I’m on and off… but when I’m here it’s summer days; warm, filled with light, content. know my way around; a familiar face smiles back at me. My road makes sense, confident I smile at life.

If this is me, who is the person I see when I’m gone?

Are my fears in charge, my ghosts, my demons? Buried and untold agnostic thoughts? Seeking life and breath my soul would not allow? Is it the side I’m not supposed to show the world, where rules of perfection and of expectations reign the field of life?

Or is it a pause I take from it, a window opened to change the air, to process that what I am becoming, seeing, feeling? A battery change to reboot the black box, to keep the ghosts away, locked? Or make me stronger to live another week, day, month?

I used to fight myself when I was . Now I read, ; and wait. I use temperance instead of swords; I know I will be back, and forcing my mysterious journey will not make me come home sooner.

I allow whatever I’m doing on the other side of the sun to run its course. One day, one week, I’m going nowhere, , a caterpillar morphing a cocoon into a shiny chrysalis who knows. For the awakening, the road back home does feel like flying when I let it be. A new gained freedom of the soul. A mission reached without a signpost. New life is from unknown ashes.

now you know, should I ever be late in answering your prompts… sit and wait a longer, I will be back soon!

coping
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About the Creator

Moni V.

Author, Poet, Editor, Story-teller and Tales-chaser. There is no fiction when a story knocks at your door, only revisions of events. Even those occurred only in someone's mind.

For Italian readers find me at moniv.club

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