I've begun to be okay with telling people my real name
And I don't know what that means for me-
Am I safer?
Am I stupider?
Am I more confident?
Or don't I care?
My real name is lovely, but it's not what I've built myself up as.
It relies on so many others-
Whereas when I am my not-so-secret identity-
I am completely my own.
Have I become content with not owning my identity?
Well, I suppose so, otherwise I wouldn't be where I am now.
And as I told her.
I am the clay-
And they are the sculptors-
But I am-
And always will be-
My own clay.
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