You Don't Know

You don't know anything about me. You don't know where I am in this moment in time. You don't know what I look like, how I act, or how I speak. You don't know what I like to eat, or where I like to hang out. You don't even know if I like to hang out. You don't know how old I am. You don't know how young I look. You don't know where I live, where I sleep, where I kill. You don't even know if I'm real. You don't know anything about me.

No one knows anything about me. I am not an open book, laying on a library table that happens to have a title which you are drawn to. I am not a picture in a magazine, so abnormally perfect. I am not a drug which you can take over and over again until you are high. I am not anything you would like me to be. But of course, how could you know what you'd like me to be, without even knowing who I am.

You don't know anything about me, and I'd like to keep it that way.

You don't know that right now, right in this moment that I'm standing in the door frame of a random person's house. You don't know if the person is awake or not, or if this person has a family. You really don't even know the gender of this person. You don't know if I'm holding a gun or a knife, and you don't know what I am about to do with it. You don't know if I kill this person in his sleep or if he's alive to feel the pain and torture that I can inflict. You don't know if he deserved it – death. You don't know what I'm going to do with him. I could stab him. I could shoot him, I could beat him up – beat him into pulp. You don't know if I know this person. You don't know anything about this scene.

You want to know don't you? There's some cruel part of your brain who is asking yourself – well what actually happened? But I'm not sure if I am the one who can tell you. Maybe I did kill this person, with my knife or my gun. Or maybe I just poisoned their drink. Or maybe, just maybe, I didn't kill anyone.

How do you know I'm not a good Samaritan, helping out whoever needs help weather it be a homeless person, a prostitute, a bachelor. How do you know, that in this hour I'm not standing on the streets, passing out coupons, or on a charity website donating money? How do you know if I'm the type who even has money to donate, or if I'm the type who has barely any money but still donates it all.

How do you know that I'm not the one who sits on the corner and begs. You don't know who I am, and I'm pretty sure you don't even know who you are. That's the funny thing with me, I know exactly what I am, and you don't know how I think of myself. You don't even know who to respond to who you are for you don't know who you are. And I laugh at you, all of you out their asking yourselves, “who am I?”

Or maybe I don't know who I am, and I don't laugh at people because they don't know who I am. How do you know I'm not the Burger King king, or the Wendy's girl, or the McDonald's clown? Do you even know If I'm human? For all you know I could be a big purple dinosaur (or a big yellow bird). I could be a pop star, going on stage in a few minutes, or a rock star getting drunk right this minute.

Or maybe I'm a nobody – at least, a nobody in your eyes. But what do you think is a nobody? I must confess, that's one thing I don't know. I don't know who you are.

To me you could be anything, because I could be anything – anyone – to you. You could be a bear, or a cat or a dog...or you could be book a movie, a song, a computer, a monitor, a keyboard, a mouse, a rat, an animal mouse, a stuffed animal mouse, an alarm clock, a bitch, an asshole, a saint, a devil, an angel, the pope, the president, a hated president, a loved president, an ambassador, a king, a queen, an actor (an actress), a little boy, a fugitive (a mass murderer?), my love, a jacket, a book bag, a school, a statue, a poem, a song, a story, a moment, a minute, a second, a lifetime, a memory, a marriage, a gay couple, a straight couple, a homophobe, a supporter, an alliance, a group, a team, a person, you could be anyone.

There is madness in it – not knowing – it's mysterious, and magical. And because you don't know who I am, I don't know who you are.

So I ask you now, who are you, and what the fuck have you been doing with your life?