There is a restlessness here. Deep inside me. I long to be something, someone, yet I cannot open my self enough to let that happen. I cannot lower myself to such a vulnerable state that would allow people to see who I am. They only see who I want them to see, and yet, sometimes I feel like they could never see who I want them to see.
I dream of traveling, but maybe what I really dream of is running away. But what do I run from? Do I run from people? Maybe. Probably even from myself, my failures. Things I failed to reveal to people, things I failed to conceal. I want to run. I want to go somewhere new, where no one knows my face, my name. Yet, even when I do, it does not help. People still see my face.
Sometimes I wish I could just walk with a paper bag over my face. Not because I think I’m ugly. I would simply feel safe in the fact that no one could discover me, find me interesting in some way, be it positive or not.
If I could, I would travel to a new town too frequently to be noticed, to be missed.