What is it?
A single piece by myself - ranting, again.
What is identity? Is it what you look like? How smart you are? Who you hang out with?
No. It's who you are inside.
I know my identity, but none of my friends or family do. It's like they can't see behind my mask, even when it's blatantly obvious that I'm not wearing it. They all treat me as the supportive friend; the one they trust without fail; the one they tell their secrets to.
I'm tired of picking up the pieces of their lives while I screw up my own in the process. Sometimes I feel like standing up and screaming, just to make them listen. I want to reveal that I am loud, I do like to sing, and that I am beautiful - on the inside, at least.
Have you ever felt like letting go? Giving up everything you have to be seen for who you really are?
I want to tell their secrets to the world and watch them spread like wildfire - but I don't. Because I am that shy, quiet nerd in the corner, and I don't do those kinds of things. That is my identity.