Am I a writer?

Am I an artist?

Am I a good person?

Am I a bad person?

Am I just a fake?

 

Yes, I write.

Yes, I paint.

Yes, I do good.

Yes, I do bad.

But am I really those things?

Does that truly make me something?

 

Is it all a front?

Am I wearing a mask?

Am I only those things if I’m talented?

 

Am I good at writing? No.

Am I good at painting? No.

Am I good at being good? No.

Am I good at being bad? No.

 

Then what am I?

 

I write so I’m a writer.

I paint so I’m an artist.

I do good so I’m a good person.

I do bad so I’m a bad person.

But who am I?

What am I?

 

Am I anything more than these things? I don’t know.