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I feel intense. I need change. I want to do something. I need to be something I’ve never been most of my life: myself.

Somewhere deep within is me but there’s many levels piled up like blankets around the real me like the peel of an orange or banana. The real me is beneath all the layers of fake me. Each layer like a new set of clothes. Each formed for a purpose.

Sometimes, I change after a traumatic moment. My personality changes based upon the people I’m around. These personalities like clothes that I wear. Becoming the real me is becoming naked, exposed, and vulnerable.

Categories: writing


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