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