You may know what I do for a living, what sport I play, who I hang out with often, what I’ve had for breakfast, lunch or dinner. You may know the places I’ve been, where I’ve gone to school and the names of my siblings. You may even know how many lovers I’ve had, where my next destination will be and who I just had a fight with.
But do you know my dreams? What makes me truly happy, and what “word” can bring me down? What do I fear the most and where do I really want to be? What makes me cry, over and over? And how do I see myself, and the people around me? Do you know the hurts I’ve been, the joys that I love to reminisce about?
Do you know me? Because, really if you don’t, let’s not kid ourselves. Just say you don’t know me. “You don’t know me.” And it’s okay. That’s not because of you. That’s because of me.
You see, I don’t even know me.