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cleaning out my closet

You may wonder what that is behind me. Let me introduce you. It's my closet. I take it with me wherever I go. Like Superman, I walk in, then reappear in costume. I have a lot. Too many. So tonight, I'm cleaning out my closet.
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There's some old ones shoved way in the back. They haven't been worn in years, but occasionally make their way to the front. They taunt me. I did my best to do them proud. I failed.
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There are worn ones. I wear them often. They don't fit me, but they do fit other's ideas of me. Grudgingly, I put them on and become what they want me to be. Each time, I lose a little piece of me. I hate them.
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There are fancy ones. The good ones. Reserved for times where I need to impress others with who I am, or who I think that I want to be. I keep these separate. In my mind that somehow makes them better. They're not.
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There are tight ones. Constricting. There is no flexibility, no room for growth, and change, and newness, and creativity. In these, I am being restricted, my airflow cut off. They are strangling the life from me.
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So tonight, I'm cleaning out my closet.
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It feels good. The trash bags are filling up. As I pull each one out, I realize the lie that created it in the first place - the lie that kept me going back to it, wearing it time and time again. My vision is clear. I see them for the ugly costumes that they are. The fake me that I wore, hiding the real me underneath. I was trying to please, make everyone happy. I didn't realize the extent of the damage being done under the mask.
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Tonight, I cleaned out my closet. There is just one hanger there now, but it will remain empty. It is for the most beautiful, handcrafted, perfectly fitting garment. I am wearing it. It allows me freedom to be true, and real, and be me. It allows me to move in who I am. I have actually been wearing it all of my life, hidden underneath. It feels good. It feels right. It feels perfect. It is me.




**based on Cleanin' Out My Closet by Eminem
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