I wonder if everyone else can see right through me like he does
I get mad when he tells me how fake I am.
"So why are you with me" I ask him.
"If I'm so damn terrible, why waste your time?"
Because it's worth it, he tells me.
It's worth it for the fleeting moments that you are real, Because it makes me feel the happiest and most fulfilled I ever have in my life.
I wish I could give him that all the time.
The problem is I can't tell the difference. If I'm so fake and have so many fronts, then I've been doing it for so long that they have blended together and become an integral part of who I am. Or who I think I am. Isn't that what we all are anyway? Just a blur of how we see ourselves and who everyone else thinks we are. I used to think I was a songwriter. Then a poet. Then an artist. But I'm looking around, and I have no paint, no knowledge of more than 5 chords. And I don't rhyme.
I have two basil plants I've managed to keep alive more than a week. So right now who I am is an accomplished gardener. A nurturer. A protector. A guardian. I wonder if that's how he sees me. If that's as real as it gets.