b2l

Who are these people I care so much about? I am obsessed with how they think about me, but I don’t know them and they don’t know me. The life I show them isn’t the life I have, and I can only ever hold up the mirage of being somebody I’m not for so long. Certainly not long enough to build anything close to a friendship with them, and even if I could, why would I want to? I don’t know them. They don’t know me. And yet I am obsessed with the image of me that exists in their heads. I define myself by whatever I think would best serve to nurture that image, the image of a person who’s not me in the minds of people I see but never know. It’s how I have always lived, it’s how I almost died.