The Fear of Being "Found Out"

Sitting on a light simmer in the background,

There’s this mild anxiety.

Waiting patiently,

It’s ready to creep in at any moment.

The eerie feeling,

Like someone is watching me all of the time.

My every movement,

Being sized up and critiqued.

What if they find you out?

At long last,

They finally discover the truth of you.

Your secret revealed,

The humanness that is you.

What will they think,

Once they learn that you’re no different from everyone else?

What will they think,

When they realize there’s no beginning and end between each of us?

What will they think,

When it becomes clear what a fully human mess you are?

What will they think,

When they learn that you’re no more special than any other being out there?

Oh, the anxiety,

Of being a imperfect human.

Full of madness, insecurity, confusion,

A complete package of the spectrum of human experience.

Oh, for them to know that I don’t have it any more figured out than the next person,

How I wonder if they will leave me behind.

Exposed, laid bare, naked in my humanity,

No less vain, narcissistic, or normal than everyone else.

I’m so fucking normal,

I’d like to think extraordinarily normal — but normal, nonetheless.

In my utter mess and fear of my humanness being found out,

Lies a layer of vulnerability I had yet to experience.

So, I lay here,

In the richness of this vulnerability.

With the wholehearted understanding,

That I’m just like you.

Posted on June 21, 2015 and filed under Poetry.