I have an idea of Myself.
And how often, in the unregistered intervals of time,
When thoughts of world avoided me
with as much fervor as I avoid this world.
I think of what I am,
I realize that of all the people I have deceived,
the one I fooled with perfection was myself.
When I see what I do not want to,
my mind desperately grabs onto a stray thought,
to distract me from understanding
Of what I am about to realize.
But I know this game too well
and this is not a secret that I have uncovered
for the first time in life.
It is what I half-remember in all my waking hours
and all that I know of in my sleep.
I know this lie, I have been telling myself.
But today is not the day,
to shatter my Idea of Me
with one cruel realization.
The day, when it comes,
shall be the last I breathe as me.
For I cherish this Idea
more than myself.