you ask me to tell you a story.
a story about me.
perhaps you expect a little twist,
just to keep you engaged.
waiting for some mysterious parts,
to let you wonder.
maybe you want it to be colorful,
so you can pick the color you like
and remember it as such.
maybe you would accept it,
as bright and colorful as it sounds
and use it to fill in the blank spaces about me in your head.
the truth is - as soon as I say it,
it is no longer just a story about me.
what if it never really was?
how convenient to think that
we can express who we are.
how reassuring to believe that
we know who we are.
and yet - how wonderful that
we still ask for stories.