always looking

who are you when you’re not telling yourself who you are

i construct artifices and run away from the truth but the truth runs faster

just run farther

i had a dream last night about a girl who knew no constructs

didn’t know time

didn’t know ego money beauty fame

imagine myself in a vast nothingness but it’s not the same

“women watch themselves being watched and learn to internalise the gaze of the other”

it doesn’t matter who i am when no ones looking

cause they’re always looking

in my head.

don’t know how to seperate the parts of me from the parts of everyone else i’ve ever met

maybe there’s no difference to begin with

maybe the girl in my dream isn’t a possibility

just an illusive fantasy

of a life lived

with no identitry

By em

a sometimes poet, sometimes painter, always philosopher

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