The world has a perception of us. We are assigned a name at birth and we learn early what it is we are supposed to be. And so, we develop; male, female, daughter, son, parent, spouse, friend, neighbour, co-worker, employee and on and on and on we go.
A few of us make an attempt to be who we really are but most of us, I think, keep it to ourselves or share it with a select few we feel we can trust with the truth. Perhaps we are not meant to share the truth.
I am not what is visible to the human eye. I am two...the public me made of flesh and bone and the real me, older than the universe and younger than tomorrow. I am made of moonbeams and starlight, inhabiting this flesh and blood shell just long enough to learn my lessons and move on to the next stage...the next level of the game. I believe we all fall into that category. I am a dreamer, a poet, a hermit, I am selfish and self centred. I long to touch the icy froth of the clouds and to tread in the dust of the red planet. For now I live in this body and I have trained it to do what is expected.
Who are you when you are not being who you are expected to be?