The face in the mirror is supposed to be me. Marked by all that is me. But, who am I? Why am I? I don’t recongnize the face. It was formed by influence and experience, not by me.

Others look in the mirror and see themselves, I see a stranger. They live inside of me, waiting to come out. So many questions, but no answers to be found. Homeless. Hopeless. Lost. Found. Truthful. Shy. Loud. Scared. Nervous. Unknown. New. Old.

It’s all me, yet none of it is. Searching day and night, months and years. Life is a mystery. When will it be solved? My face, a mask. Worn to hide the shame, fear, ignorance, innocence, lies; it all hides. I’m always running, but I feel like I’m standing still.

Running, running, from where? To where? Why? To find the face that I made. The home that I picked. The life that I chose. Me, not others. I’ll start anew. A fresh page. A clean slate. Maybe one day when I’m running, I’ll be ready. Ready to stop running. Ready to be myself. Ready to reveal.

Ready to take off the mask.