I I I Don't Know Who I Am But I'm Me

by CathyButterflyJC   Apr 9, 2014

I I I Don't Know Who I Am But I'm Me
Part I

I heard another voice inside my head the other day.

I am used to them bickering,
one fighting with the other,
always they have an opposite opinion,
the hidden explanation for why I'm always caught talking to myself.

But the other day another voice showed up,
I have come to call them my reasoning,
but now sometimes I wonder if its more than then that,
their different sides of me,
but it's normal for me.

But this new voice scared me,
it screamed inside my head,
Brought my other two voices to attention,
started speaking to them as I would to you,
another opinion,
another voice I heard coming out of the shadows.

Another voice I have always hid from the outside world.

I'm not crazy,
But if I spoke these words out loud,
If I told people the truth behind my madness.

Then they would look at me as just that . . .

A Mental Case.

But I think the worst part,
I don't want to be normal but I don't want either to be the freak of the family even more than I have already become,
Being an outcast in the world is miserable until you realize you don't want it any other way,
But being an outcast in your family is never fun.
And I don't even know if I can tell my true love because what if I'm like her,
The One who hurt him before,
As close as she used to be to me.

Part II

I'm not like everyone else,
I can't sit still in class,
I need to write to feel whole or content or concentrated,
My mind wonders to everything,
Unplanned paranormal events I can't explain,
Fears of the future.

I have trouble sleeping,
I have regular nightmares,
And I have since I was a kid,
for as long as I can remember,
Old enough to dream.

I write whenever I'm upset,
Whenever my heart is bleeding,
It is the one true way to express me.

I am a slow learner,
I'm not good at anything I try to do,
And I mess-up a lot,
But I will admit it.

And you may think I'm overreacting,
But it's really that that's how important it is to me,
So I pour my heart out,
That's not overreacting,
Or blowing it out of proportion.

I am an outcast,
Un-accepted in this world,
I don't belong,
And I have no true place here,
Because I am not like anyone else.

Part III

I expect certain things from my future husband,
Is it a lot,
Is it not?

I can't stand being stood up,
Or lied to,
Or a refusal to communicate.

I want marriage,
A big family,
An acceptance of God!

I want an old fashion life style,
A house in the country,
And the style of gentleman and lady.

I have morals,
And traditions that are just right from God.

I am stubborn,

I will want lots of your attention,
And expect you to make time for me,
And I love being asked questions.

When I get books published your life will be publicized,
Your life will be written within those pages,
You will be known as the man in my book by whoever reads it.

I am emotional,
A worrier.

A love of romantic,
In my stories and in our love,
And so much more.

God is in my life!!!
Always and forever!!!
Respecting that and excepting it is the most important!!!

Part IV

But here is a side,
That not only makes up me,
But it's a side I adore when I see.

I love fairytales,
Prince charming,
Old fashion castles.

I love Old English poetry,
Lace dresses,
Ballroom Waltzes.

I love Traditional Church,
But also one full of love,
Most of all I love God.

I adore the idea of horse and buggy,
Of couples grabbing arms,
And marriage, family life young.

I love gentleman,
A gentleman who will work on a certain side of the sidewalk,
And drape his coat over her shoulders,
A gentleman will hold the car door open for her,
And any other door,
He will make fancy romantic date plans,
And give her his sweater with his name stitched on the back or side,
A gentleman will always use his manners,
And try to get the Father's blessing,
He will respect her,
Dress up for her,
And so so so so so so much more!!!
(Probably add more later, I will notify it in comments)

Part V

I suffered from depression for many years
Ever since I was little I wondered if life was worth it
I would cry begging God to take me with him
And when I was little I wrote letters to God about running away
And if he would forgive me if I killed myself
I was seven...
I WILL continue this later


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