I am sorry to announce this
but you all need to know that
I am not who you think...

The things I do are dream like
they don't ever make sense when
I do them and afterwards I
can never seem to rationalize them
or understand what was going through
my own mind...

As I sit in this Christmas decorated,
friendly coffee shop filled with strangers
and people I know I have cut too deep
I find it hard to believe that I do
not know who I am anymore.

I feel like an alien in this skin,
waiting to break free of the ridicule,
of the pain it seems I cause so often...

I am scared and weak,
vulnerable even...
I think...

Then again, it's difficult to tell
what is real and what is not.
I write too much in my head,
this demented Wonderland I
created by mistake and it is
beginning to drive me
just a little mad.

So if you are reading this now,
and you think you know me
I am so sorry to announce that
you don't and you never did.

Because how could you know
someone who does not even
know them self?