The hats we wear

I always wonder
about the hats that we wear on our heads
I’m curious to know
which ones are worn and crinkled
and which ones stay hanging on the rack most days
which ones we never wear at all
and which ones we hide
deep in our closet

Thank you is a word I use very often
I like to think that I live life with open hands
searching for the rain water
to wash away the blood from glass wounds
gratitude comes from a hand marred with experience
and mine are scarred

But sorry is a word I use most days too
reminiscent of the way I hide behind the shadows of my ideologies
I’m standing here
peering over the edge
My bravery is measured by how much of my saliva I can swallow
before it dries

And confidence is the word that remains unused
still unsure
if the hats I wear were meant for my head
or if I am worthy of any crown
I know that Pia believes the hands of destiny to be the one to coronate her
the value of my self-belief is correlated to the purpose I keep
most days it is tiring

And the pride in oneself is one I never wear
at least not where anyone can see
nights spent in front of the mirror
imagining
stuck in my head
the thought feels heavy
It is difficult to wear without feeling

the hat of guilt
the one that lingers there sometimes
like the smell of smoke even after the fire
a presence
perched on steady shoulders
to cause unsteady feet
I do not know what I am doing sometimes
and these roads are so dry and the sun is so hot

But I have a hat collection
and there are those I wear most days
those that stay on the wall
those that I never wear at all
and those hidden deep in my closet
I have worn them all
at one point or another
but I would much rather let destiny
choose my hats for me

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