writing
posting
editing
sharing
there is a different me that comes out
whenever i start to edit and actually do things
(but, again, is that the real me?
is there only one true real me?
are all these hjs part of the one true hj?)
and that’s why i get so freaked out
with the internet and social media
because it only really allows for one of you,
when truly
everyone is made up of so much:
their thoughts and feelings
their past and memories
their response to trauma
their response to non-trauma
any mental illness(es) they may (or may not) have
their likes
and loves
and dislikes
and hates
the people who raised them
the people they raised
the people surrounding them
the people they’ve stopped attaching themselves to
their schooling
their education
(because those are two separate things)
their hobbies and interests
the things they do when they’re bored
the dreams and hopes and aspirations
and even as i list these things
even if i were able to list all the things i could think up
in words and analogies and metaphors and phrases
it still wouldn’t be enough
because,
though i do love to complain about them,
humans are beautiful and complex creatures,
and they can never be summed up
in words;
the ineffable beings,
the infinity of selves,
they (we) all hold inside.