It was always there. That version of me that everyone including me pretended didn’t exist was always present within my very being. It’s the only reason I can give to explain why I’m still here trying to be him.
I should quit. To be brutally honest with myself I should give up now because I have every reason to. Time has passed me by, I’ve got a family, my kids are my priority now, I’m too old to be chasing some sort of childish fantasy.
I should quit…but something simply keeps propelling me to hold on to every glimmer of hope. Something keeps telling me that the only way out is through all the doors I never dared to open in the first place. The doors I was always told were best left shut because I was not going to be happy with the person I’d meet on the other side.
Every moment I’ve spent trying to pretend this was not who I’m meant to be, I felt this energy itching and burning within. It’s like I would end up growing bitter and resentful if I didn’t try to become him at the very least of all my efforts.
When I reflect on every moment that my mind can playback, no matter how far back, I notice that this version of me was always there, and he revealed himself through all the efforts I made to hide his existence.
For that reason I just keep on going, keeping hold unto that belief, that gut feeling deep down that tells me I’m doing the right thing.
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