Prose From the Soul: Who You Are (Is Who You Are – Perfectly)

Just for the record –
that is, if anyone keeps records anymore
or watches the games we play
or keeps a score . . .
most people don’t see what you see, nor can they.

In all you see, there is a little piece of you.
There’s a piece of you in everything you touch
or taste and, certainly,
there’s a piece of you in everything you experience
and a piece in all that you hate
or enjoy. 

Your version of life, your dreams, your understanding
and your perception or its deception and thereof;
you are the mixed contents of your mind on a journey
from here to there and like a sponge,
our minds absorb the surroundings.
We are often a magnet of misinformation
in the inaccurate assumptions and the teachings
of ugly or beauty.

No one can see what you see,
except for you and at the same time; what do you see?
Just curious.
Just wondering.
What do you see when you look in the mirror?

Do you see the smile that we see
or do you mistake this for something else?
Can you see the qualities of your character
or is this missed by the assumption
of some awkward displacement?

Are you aware of your talent?
And I mean this too –
I mean, can you see this?
Do you know anything about your abilities,
or like everyone else here on Project Earth
do you just naturally take this for granted?

Or, is it this?
Is this a case where you’re misled
by the ideas that all you’ve done
is somehow meaningless and that in some way,
is it that you can only see yourself
as a minimalized version of who you are
or less than miraculous?

I wonder where this comes from
Actually, let’s be honest . . . I know where this comes from.
Don’t you?

It’s either been beaten into you
or out of you
but either way,
the pain still remains
(Doesn’t it?)

This misallocation of truth
or this misplacement of worth
comes from the lies we’ve consumed since our childhood.
This comes from the ties to abuse
which hold us back and limit our motion
to a range of something less-perfect.

This taints our belief system
and impairs our ability to think ahead
and move forward
or improve.

This comes from the loved ones who were supposed to love you most and yet,
in most ways it would appear that they loved you the least.
Or maybe they just loved you the best they could
which wasn’t enough and due to their inabilities,
their disorders delivered an impact
which wasn’t something that worked for you.

Maybe this came from the names
we were called in the beginning of our lives
or maybe this came from the remnants of shame
and after the moments of humiliation.
Maybe we swore to ourselves that “no,”
I’ll never go through this again –
even thought we have
and we do
go through it again, I mean.

It amazes me that you cannot see how incredible you are.
Yet, I am equally amazed that you believe that all you’ve done
is minimal, that who you are is nothing more than happenstance
and should you have turned right instead of left,
or if you walked through a different doorway; none of this would be real –
or maybe the people who know you
would be celebrating someone else just as well
and in all,
you would be nothing more than ineffectual at best.

It’s amazing to me,
to say the best you can be is unaware of how amazing you are –
exactly as you are, with no changes, no reasons to decorate or embellish, exaggerate or pretend –
all of this is perfect to me
and I mean this.
I’ve seen you before
I know you . . .

But I get it and I’ll give you this –
everything you see and everything you experience
has been hazed with a tint of a commercialized idea.
And so what about beauty . . . who in this world
has the right to dictate or determine what beauty is
especially when it comes to the eye of the beholder and
the way you behold yourself or your beauty;
the way you are unaware of how the room changes when you walk into it
or the way you are unaware that people adore you,
love you, appreciate you and yet – you have no idea how impactful you are. 
To me, this is crazy at best

You don’t see it though which is hard to live with
on both my side and yours
because I wish you saw it

Like for now, you in the mirror
you noticing all the flaws and imperfections
as if this is the only thing that people see –
and dig it, I get it that we all need to feel beautiful
but then in this case; I have to ask you

How can you feel beautiful if all you see yourself is ugly?
Better yet, how can you reshape your version of truth
to understand that everything about you is beautiful
because of you?

No matter how tough anyone is;
no matter how callous, ruthless, brutal
or no matter how carefree someone acts about their facts
or worse; no matter how evil someone acts or pretends to be,
everyone has a core. In this core is a spirit;
this is the heart; this is where the true beauty exists
or where your ugliness goes to die

This is the real you. And I know you.
Scars and all 

(secrets and all too) and yet, what do you see?

Moreover, what do you think you see?
Is it the same thing as the rest of the world?
are you still hiding the bumps and bruises of a time
that you never want to revisit – and coincidentally,
if you never want to revisit those times or the pain, the shame,
the guilt, the fault and the mother of all fuckers, the regret;
if you want to stay away from this
than why do you live in its regard
Always dodging –
Always maneuvering
Always afraid to dance in the crowd
or sing
or smile . . .

Is this to stay safe?
To run?

I’ve tried to catch you to give you the news
but you keep running.
It’s okay. The war is over.
The fight is done
The lights are on now
There’s no reason to be afraid of the dark
not anymore
It’s all gone. 
And it’s safe to come out now.

I promise

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