He doesn’t know me. He doesn’t get me. He doesn’t know my past, my future, my ‘now’. He doesn’t know me.
I want to tell him. I want to show him how much of me he doesn’t know so he won’t think he knows everything; so he doesn’t think he is all prepared to take everything. But I’m also scared to show him, because what if I show him and he gets scared himself? What if he decides I’m too much for him to handle? What if he decides to leave and say I’m not good enough? I don’t want to loose yet another friend.
My past. I know it’s gone and I can’t do anything to change where I’ve been or who I’ve become. I know I can’t erase what has happened to plan out what will become. But that’s the thing. The past, my past, is what it is and I can’t do anything to change that, but will he understand for me? My past has brought me to where I am standing, right? If I hadn’t gone through the things I did, I might have become another person.
My future. I don’t know where it’s going to lead me, that’s why I’m here to find out.
My ‘now’. I barely get myself a hundred percent. How can he have a chance?