242. Mistaken for myself

some days
I am beautiful

and on others,
ugly

but most days
I am both,
my beautiful shadows
indistinguishable from my ugly corners

---

some days
I am the question
that keeps changing

sometimes,
I am the answer
that never changes

but most often,
I am that uninterested gaze
the gaze that
neither comprehends
the pointlessness of scrutiny
nor cares about
the intransigence of the response

---

some days
I am hope

on others,
cynicism

and then,
there are days when
I am the boxing ring
where hope and cynicism refuse to spar,
but just sit around,
playing dumb charades

---

fairly often,
I am ill-behaved
performing
to a cheering, jeering crowd

occasionally
I am alone,
keeping me the company
I seek

but there are days
when I cannot stand myself

and I try to flee in vain,
with myself in persistent pursuit

---

on most days
I do not know
I do not notice
that I am happy
too consumed by the choices
of pleasant noise in my head

on others
I feel guilty
I feel too overwhelmed by my happiness
and seek an escape
in narratives
of war-torn cities
of dysfunctional families
of unrequited love in grimy alleys

I bawl

I amuse myself with futile attempts
at letting myself
out of my life

---

some days
I decide who to be
and I am nothing
(thankfully)

on most others
the world chooses for me
and I am way too many useless things
things I never actually am

but today,
I am not sure

why don't you suggest
the story
with which I should strangle
and kill the hours?

and then
I will return
the favor
(and the pain)

so ponder and tell me -
who should I be today?

---

I want to swing from the chandelier - Sia :) :)