The Hidden Side that is Me

I have always believed that there is that part in each one of us that even our parents don't know, that part only us are aware of and if you would try explaining to anyone, they wouldn't understand and they would probably think you are crazy. Humans are an interplay of two sides; the good vs the evil, the introvert vs the extrovert, the fun guy vs the not so fun guy, well am sure u get the picture. Where am i heading with this; well i have of recent realized that my ideal self is preventing my real self from having fun. i have never considered myself a fun guy, certainly not a HAHA guy am more like a hihi guy, get the difference? On the other hand a little fun in a while never hurt anyone, so i occasionally  go out to club to relax my nerves with a cold beer. The problem is i recently don't even find any fun in doing that....ever seen an uptight guy in a club? i thought beer was supposed remove all the inhibitions, u know, throw all caution to the wind and allow oneself to add some life to this life. am therefore left wondering whether am in a rut, or does midlife crises happen in once twenty's? i have always been the guy who keeps a level  head, never gets angry, calculative but of late i feel the need to look for a teenage hood that i never had, when you are a first born sometimes u miss your teenage years, just get out there and do the stupid stuff that teenagers do, drink myself silly, act the jerk without a care and definitely be more outgoing.....but again i feel like my nature wont just allow me....but such is life. this is what i exactly feel

And then i think afresh about my life, love, hate, joy and lust.

When i think i've loved, i find i've haboured lust. Sacrifising the one that love me, to folow criptic gamble loves.

When i think i hate, i find a newer trust. When i feel devine and safe, an old heart cries and die.

When i want the whole of earth, i loose it for a simple heart. When i learn to stand alone, i get a helping hand.

I cling to photos of the past, and make my future dull. Tatter shrades of golden times i keep in albums of my heart.

What if i make another golden past to think about tomorow today? What if i kill the roots and plant the seeds afresh?

When i think i'm joyful, i find a cause to cry. When i think it still goes on, i'm tangled by its end.


  Poem via Augustus W. Landing.