You said you didn’t know me,
like I had slipped away,
like some imposter moved in
while you weren’t looking.
But the truth is,
you never knew me.
You saw what I let you see—
a mask, a surface,
a man who kept the rest buried.
I’ll own that.
I didn’t even know myself back then.
I was fighting shadows I couldn’t name,
building walls I didn’t understand.
But here’s the part
that still burns—
you said I changed,
when really,
I just stopped hiding.
And when you finally saw me,
you turned away.
Not because I was different,
but because I was finally real.
