The version of me

The version of me that no one sees,

The version of me that no one feels—

Feels distant, yet so enjoyable,

Feels alone… but not quite lonely.

The version of me that puts everything first—

Letting someone sip the coffee first,

Handing over the water

After a long, shared walk under the sun.

The version of me that holds the door—

Sometimes for 30 seconds,

Not because I must,

But because it feels right.

The version of me that's kind—

Yet selfish, sometimes.

The one that betrays expectations,

Because I choose my space, my peace.

The version that cancels plans—

Not for drama, not for excuse,

But because I simply don’t want to.

I spot the lies,

But silence is softer

Than a war over truth.

A version hidden in me—

How does it feel so relatable, you ask?

Because we breathe the same air,

Live in the same world,

Feel the same ache in different shapes.

Sounds random, but it’s real.

The version of me that’s confident—

Listens to everyone,

But always does me.

Dances one moment,

Cries the next—

Insecure, yet free.

The wind takes my breath away,

And some nights I cry so quietly,

Even the moon can’t hear.

But it’s life.

And it's me.

The lucid dreamer flying in the sky,

The overthinker,

Worried about global warming at 2 A.M.

So many versions of me—

All real.

All hidden.

But not really.