I can't see myself... I find a shadow, the part that was angry when his family left. The imperfection of impelling an ideal so abstract, it leaves you with marinating ignorance, endowing a sense of stupidity. Though, others see a part of me. Never the true me.

The me that cries at the shadows of his past, the me that's scared to move forward because others may see him differently, the me that screams within himself in such a begrudging way, the me that smiles too little and the me that never does his best.

Though, now I see myself. Not from my eyes, but the descriptions of another. She said "You're you... every bit of you is beautiful, the painful parts and your smile." I disagree... I cannot see myself because it's not me yet. It's an image I desire myself to be. It's not me, it's a...