Thinking we know ourselves.
Imagine the surprise
When you realize
That everything you believed
About yourself
Is a figment
Of someone else’s imagination.
Yes, there are many narratives for a story
The person who lived that story
Knows the whole truth about it,
Or is it really so?
Sometimes the person who lived it
Has also been told a lie
By someone else
For their own selfish interests.
What would it feel like
To realize you are not the centre
The main protagonist
Of your own story?
To learn that you were so naive
You believed a lie
And lived a half life
All your life...
It would feel like betrayal
Wouldn’t it?
To realize that you trusted the liars
More than you trusted yourself
And to realize the truth
That you barely know yourself
That you are miles away
From self-knowledge.
Then you scramble
To pick up the pieces
Of the you, you remembered
Yourself to be.
You step away from the world
Find a comfy corner
Where you can hear
Your own heart beat.
You shun the ones
Who lied to you
And embrace your one true self
Still yet unknown
For you realise
This bond with yourself
Is lifelong
And will last until your last breath.
You allow tears
To run down your face
And look and relook
At every detail
Every memory
In a bid to see beyond
The false narratives
The lies.
When you learn
They made themselves
The hero of your story
And hid you under the carpet
Every time you did
Something good
You feel the anger,
The grief hit you.
You realize your feelings
Were held back
Each and every time
So much that you felt life was shallow
And now you understand
Why you felt
The way you felt
You were not allowed to be you.
It is time to take back
What is yours!
It is time to shun the lies
And embrace the truth
Time to let those feelings flow
And for the liars to know
They cannot have you
They have no right over your life.
At last it feels good
To know the real ‘You’
Finally you know
You are a person
You have the right to be heard
To be counted
To speak for yourself
To live for yourself.
Henrietta Decruz
