- Living the lie -

Watching One Tree Hill to relieve myself of boredom lately has somehow triggered off an avalanche of memories. One in particular involves a dull yellow metal tin I used to own. It must have gone missing in one of my multiple shifts of abode, or maybe it's corroded to dust by now, but once upon a time that box used to take up permanent residence on my desk.

It was nothing much to look at, really, just your average cuboidal box which to my memory had no ostentatious design on it. But it served its purpose, and proved a useful repository for all manner of bits and pieces.

I remember going home with a friend one day, when she commented that the box was one shade of ugly. Slightly embarrassed, I started dressing my box up, drawing out gothic shapes on a sheet of black paper and sticking them on it, and putting sequins on its sides and all.
I dressed it up and made it look flashy and aesthetically appealing.
I'd given it a new skin, and I was well proud of this reborn box of mine.

I moved out of my place a couple of months later and kept the box in one of my drawers, and it fell out of my radar for some time until I began looking for something (can't recall what it was) and remembered that I'd stored it in my box, and a great hunt for my box ensued.
I remember searching for my yellow box everywhere that day, opening up all my closets and drawers but it managed to elude me despite my best efforts... until I remembered what I had to look for - a tin that was no longer yellow, but which was enclothed in black, with bling-bling colouring its sides.

It was right there, in front of me, and only then did I realise I'd lost sight of what it really was.
I stripped it of its gaudy black designs and shiny sequins to reveal what I'd wanted all along - a dull yellow metal tin - and I found that I liked it just the way it was.

I don't need to be anything other than a prison guard's son
I don't need to be anything other than a specialist's son
I don't have to be anyone other than a birth of two souls in one
Part of where I'm going is knowing where I'm coming from

I don't want to be anything other than what I've been trying to be lately
All I have to do is think of me and have peace of mind
I'm tired of looking 'round rooms wondering what I gotta do
Or who I'm supposed to be
I don't want to be anything other than me

I'm surrounded by liars everywhere I turn
I'm surrounded by imposters everywhere I turn
I'm surrounded by a identity crisis everywhere I turn
Am I the only one to notice?
I can't be the only one who's learned