It feels like I’m erasing myself all over again, like I can never be true.
I’m closer to the truth, but am I? I’m closer to what feels true, but am I really?
I don’t feel myself from the outside and I still don’t even know what’s on the inside.
After all these years, I thought I had grown—that I finally understood more—but I’ve remained as elusive as ever…
This story is part of a collection of poems, short stories and introspective reflections of my creation, called “Grimoire of a Weirdo”.