You

You.
Yes, You.
Staring at your screen, at this text.
Reading it in your mind’s voice.
You hear it don’t you?
Who’s voice is it that you hear?
Is it your own?
Whether it is or isn’t, you recognize it.
It’s been there for as long as you remember.
Judging, advising, helping, hurting.
Reminding you of happy times,
of embarrassing times.
Making you smile, cry and cringe.
Your own personal critic,
hiding behind your eyes.
Seeing everything,
hearing everything that you do.
It grows with you.
You probably talk back to it,
it doesn’t make you crazy.
Holding discourse with it,
solving problems with it.
It doesn’t always say what you want it to,
many times it disgusts you.
But that voice,
that’s you.
That’s the you that only you get to know.
The you that you hide from the world.
That you is truth.
That you is terrible.
That you is creative.
That you is cruel.
That you is complex.
That you is beautiful.
Yes, you.
You.