My disclosure of identity issues are vague, yet overwhelming. I am confused on who I should consider close, whether in the moment or for my future. No matter how shoved down it may be at the time, the reoccuring desire to disappear is familial. I've never been sure how to handle it, theres no exact complications to it, its a sign to turn invisible until I feel a wake of return; a snail in its compact shell, with no memory alongside it. I have often conformed to a normalcy that feels ugly and unkind. Its not typical that I understand if I can confide in the comfort of understanding; it's a wish I'm not sure how to work toward. Needed or not, others have seen me as a social butterfly. I always thought that I could just work with the queue, and I assumed to appear two-faced with the fear of failure and abandonment. I know that its more than that, though. It's how I disguise myself, and that guise is often something that overflows. But it is needed until I am ready to spill my cup, to refill and refresh my cup. I am not sure of my destined footprints, but I am sure that I aspire to follow a progressive story that gives me a way of apologetic confidation.
happy birthday to me.