Poem: The Many Yous

So many yous exist,

the yous of the past,

those who were believed to be you back then,

the you that was going to be a lawyer, doctor, police officer,

not anymore,

but that you is alive in the thoughts of distant relatives, old friends, acquaintances,

who believed you when you told them,

who might still believe,

but now, that you is left behind for you went another way,

that old path was once clear, now it’s blocked off by thoughts that were yet to come,

experiences that were yet to be felt,

some of the past yous are lost and some went along with you.

 

So many yous,

even in the present, you multiply,

each handshake, each embrace, giving birth to another you,

your grandparents know you that is good,

your parents know you who messes up but is trying,

your friends know you who is alive,

your love knows you who is vulnerable,

each living with a different you, for the real one cannot be known.

 

So many yous,

all the different yous in the mind of others,

all with different expectations,

you sit and think,

who can you please? who can you make happy? who can you be?

even the stranger thinks of you one way, another you that you are supposed to be,

passing by, catching a glimpse of you, the way you walk, the way you look, the way you breathe, all noted, giving birth to another you,

then, when you act, who do you let down with each action?

 

Then there is you,

the nucleus,

the one who is juggling, trying to contain the offsprings, branching out from your being,

some unknowingly, others knowingly as you project different images,

losing track of yourself, of the yous that you have created,

the contradictions rising, disappointing others whose expectations you built,

weighed down by your own lack of inconsistency,

for you cannot be consistent,

when you don’t know who you are.

 

So many yous,

awaiting you in the approaching future,

the present yous will not make it,

more yous will be made,

ever going, every forming, the ever-building you,

for the you that you are can only be known by you,

others only get a mere impression of you,

the fortunate few get a good glimpse of you,

they see your shadow and think that to be you,

but the true you cannot be known,

except by you.

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