Can’t Return to History

What do I think when you look into my eyes? You’re searching for something that might not exist in me anymore. You’re searching for a heart. You’re searching for something more than the impression I knowingly put on front. You’re searching for a human. You’re searching for…who I use to be.

But that isn’t me anymore. I don’t know where my heart of flesh when I traded it for a heart of steel. I don’t know where that little girl disappeared to when I covered her with my masks and covers. I don’t know what part of me is still human and not machine. I don’t know…how to get back to who I once was.

Who I am now…you don’t want this. You don’t want the scars on my body. You don’t want the suicidal periods that I have. You don’t want the panic attacks and anxiety attacks. You don’t want the nervous fits. You don’t want to thick walls and stubbornness. You don’t want the rants and the uncertainty. You don’t want this…you don’t want me.

You want that person you see. You want the person who makes you nervous and laugh. You want the person who has light shinning in their eyes. You want the person who laughs and smiles. You want the person who is strong and sure. You want the person who can promise you things. You want the person you dream of being with. You want the person…who I (maybe) use to be.

But I don’t know how to go back. I don’t know how to erase my memories that changed me to how I am. I don’t know how to un-live the past that scarred me so much. I don’t know how to take back actions that continue to haunt me. I don’t know how to un-see things I wish I never had. I can’t…be who you want me to be….

You want me to be happy. You want me to worry less. You want me to have more confident. You want me to question less. You want me to enjoy life more. You want me to be more outgoing. You want me to be more quiet. You want me to be proper and descent. You want me to be native and free. You want me to be comfortable. You want me to be…a lot that I don’t know whether or not is “me”.

I see you looking into my eyes. You’re searching for something you wish to find, but I don’t know whether you will find what you want to or find something that will scar you. You go to me and want to learn about me, but I don’t know whether you will learn something great or learn something that will give you nightmares for the rest of your life. You want to see great things for my future, but I don’t know whether you will be able to look pass my past when it reveals itself to you or whether you will hide and only see the darkness I see.

I don’t know a lot. But I know you are searching for something, something, something that probably isn’t the real me.

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