You learned someone else's story so well- that we believed you knew our own. You borrowed another life for long enough- that somewhere the lines disappeared. Now the world waits quietly- to hear what you think about living. Tell me when pretending- became believing. When did the costume - outlive the part? When did applause become permission- to tell us who we are? Perhaps we wanted certainty- more than truth. Perhaps a familiar face- felt easier than finding our own. Perhaps we asked the wrong people- because asking ourselves felt harder Tell me when pretending- became believing. When did the script- replace experience? When did borrowed voices become- the ones we trusted most? I'm not asking who deserves to be heard. I'm wondering when we decided- that recognition meant understanding. I'm wondering when we stopped looking inward- and started looking up.
