No Blindfolds

Self awareness isn’t always easy..

No Blindfolds

I see myself doing it
while I’m doing it.
Reaching for the same fire
knowing exactly how it burns,
already tasting the ash.

I hear the lie form
before it leaves my mouth—
the polite version,
the survival version,
the one that keeps the peace
and kills the truth quietly.

I know when I’m asking for love
and calling it understanding.
I know when I’m tired
and pretending I’m strong.
I know when I say “I’m fine”
it’s a negotiation,
not a fact.

I watch my wounds
steer the wheel
and still let them drive.
I let history speak for me
because my own voice
is shaking.

Self-aware is not clarity—
it’s exposure.
It’s standing naked
in the moment you realize
you’re the pattern
you keep trying to escape.

There’s no comfort in this knowing.
No applause.
Just the quiet responsibility
of not unseeing yourself.

And every day,
I decide—
do I change,
or do I live with the truth
and call it who I am?