Of the hundreds of cliché quotes, the two I hear the most are “there’s more to me than meets the eye” or “you know my name, not my story.” They convey that there is so much more to a person than what they initially let on. Fascinated by that idea, I tried it for myself and quickly realized I was only pretending to be more than what people thought of me — it felt like being fake happy. I was pretending to be better than the assumptions about me and be quirky, but that’s not me.
I am a child at heart:
My innocence and I have yet to part.
I have had those kinds of thoughts and have done those kinds of things,
but I have yet to allow myself to immerse in what vices bring.
To the boy that sees me for the first time, here’s what you should know:
I still wade into ball pits as if they were oceans;
I pretend to drown in the sea of colors.
I still accidentally slip and step on a few,
but it’s okay because the landing doesn’t leave me sore.
I’ll admit bouncy castles still get me excited.
My heart beats fast at the paradox of
jumping freely and flying in an enclosed space;
I beat gravity.
I find balloons to be so cool.
I throw them up and catch them before they fall back down.
I still visit this playground near my old school;
I get on a swing and forget memories of the ground.
I find respite in simple pleasures and nostalgia,
as if castles of air doth my mind reside.
My jaw relaxes at a game of couches and lava;
My mind is eased by the breeze of a slide.
To the boy that sees me for the first time:
A dark shadow follows me around.
But, trust me, there is light beneath my colored contacts,
and life beyond my oceans that drown.
I am more than a book to be uncovered.
Tear through the pages to see
that beneath secrets to be discovered,
I lied: I’m completely empty.
