Confused

Have you ever felt like being true to yourself?
Yet when you look, there is no pure "you".
There only remains someone foreign.
Someone changed by circumstances in life.
Changed from their true self.

You search deeper still,
And find that the only "you" left
Is skin-deep.
For what is within has been transformed:
Unfamiliar.


Have you ever had dreams
That start at the place where you slept?
Such that reality and dream
Becomes blurred into a confused mess.
All that tossing and turning:
Is that too a dream?
The distinction is smudged.


Have you ever faced
Conflicting knowledge?
You have to un-learn and re-learn
At each new level of education achieved.
What is true? More and more,
I do not know.


If you have,
Then welcome.

About Friends...

It's begun to nag at me,
Suggesting that I am a nuisance.
When I speak, it's with a tone of smug-ness:
Of pride.

Have I brought worldly competition into "friendship"?
Are my "friends" comparison-figures
Or people who share an emotional bond?

I wish it was the latter,
But then, I don't know.
My ideals and my reality are at conflict.

I don't know the extent of friendship one can have.
Too much open-ness, and we are calling for pity;
Too little, and we are cold.

I guess that's why I close up.
That's probably why I speak weird --
I am unfamiliar with direct contact.

Even now, I detect exaggerated feelings.
I don't know
How to be me with my friends.

But trust me:
Although I am seemingly indifferent,
You have impacted me deeply.