knitting you a clear picture of me...

i need to unwind the yarn in my head
i want to wind it into yours
can you hear me?

you werent listening to me.
you werent even there when you came.
you say you want to know me,
but you dont even see me.
you all have images
called by my name
so many now i cant keep them straight.
i would normally blame myself, for giving you the image,
instead of me.
for not being real. for not being whole.
but not this time.
i did not give you this image.
you stole it from my past, from my pasts words.
but she doesnt see me either.

they say that people only see what they want to see.
more than that, they see only who they want to see.
i am too much for you.
i am too much for most.
and so you see nothing.
too much = nothing.
and i let you imagine who i am.
project your favorite movie onto my screen.
but what will you do now...
now that i have rolled up the screen.
and there is just me.
i dont fit into your movie now
do i?
i wont be type cast into anyones drama

so who am i?
i am tired, every time i stop to check.
i am scared more than angry, more than that and happy together.
i am still, because i cant hear myself when i move.
i only feel beautiful while in motion, or in words, never while still.
i am confused, often, but i hide it well.
i want to love, but something stops me, more from receiving than giving.
its my past that stops me.
its my past that has owned me.
i become a scared 7 yr old girl when people yell.
i am consumed by my passions.
so much so that i have to withdraw into my solitude to recover.
i understand joy. it is my central tenet.
i am awed by life. and i chase that awe, regardless of penalty.
the Met is my church.
it is where i worship art; it is where i can always find my awe.
there is nothing worse that i could do than let you see me cry.
i cry a lot. quietly. alone.
usually in the shower.
i pretty much have my shit together, even when i dont, its never out of control.
but my greatest fear is going crazy. like her.
no my greatest fear is dying without ever really loving or being loved. like her.
but not dying. i have no fear of that.
you say i am too eloquent, but you should see me
when i wear no words.
i am most open then. like a wound. a wound that never scabbed.
without my words, i am an open wound.
but it is my control that you crave,
and i would gladly give it to you if i knew
who i am without it.
i am learning. and i am close.
i will give my control as a gift,
but not to you.
i will give it to the one who knows me.
only she will have earned it.

im not playing with images anymore.
i want to play with reality.
this is me. as i know it today.