‘She seems so this’,
‘She seems so that’.
Ceaseless speculation on the tips of their tongues as they try to figure out who I really am.
But, pause, wait- take note of the word seems,
A word that represents an image of who or what they think I am,
An image formed by fragments.
Fragments taken from the meaningless conversation we had a year ago,
Fragments taken from an observation of me across a crowded room.
But they don’t know me and they never will,
For in their heads lies the false image of who they think I am.
When I act out of character, breaking up the superficial image they formed of me, all I hear is ‘I didn’t know she could get like that’ or ‘is that really her?’
Now, the people that say this are usually the talkers, bystanders and assumers,
Usually on the outside of your circle peering in,
So they confuse fact with fiction,
And refuse to appreciate that to know someone is easier said than done.
So I’m sorry if I’m too quiet,
I’m sorry if my behaviour does not correlate with your false hopes and expectations.
For it is you that has chosen to form an opinion of me from afar.
And until you know me, I will continually seem to be in your eyes.