I don't think anyone really realizes but I,
The many different versions of me,
The versions that people see.

Depending on the time,
Depending on the day,
Depending on the environment's lay.

There's the me during class,
Solemn and focused,
Only cracks a smile when work is momentarily unfocused.

There's the me that shares publicly online,
That tweets and shares as an activist everyday,
There are little actions she makes on her journey to make the world change it's ways.

There's the me with my family,
The strong, independent one,
Who constantly is accused of being agresssive and awful while in her room the tears are never done.

There's the me that sings in choir,
Sometimes the leader of the pack,
Who practices her music and tries to keep everyone on track.

There's the me who goes to church,
And leads the Sunday school,
With never even a word of the girl she likes and thinks is so attractive and cool.

There's the me that rants on Snapchat,
The one that most closely represents my reality,
And who loses some of her supposed patience and serenity.

And see the problem is,
Despite all these versions on me,
None quite perfectly fit who I feel I'm meant to be.

It drives me to my wits end,
Makes me fall down on me knees,
Absolutely defeated and so sad at times I simply freeze.

I'm not sure I know any longer who I am,
But perhaps someday I'll figure out,
Who I'm meant to be.

Perhaps I'll find me.