word grow old with time

My words to myself. Never write anything for anyone. Things change, things fade, and things grow apart. Yet who I’m never a truth. It is never set in stone. Yet I’m told that how I view myself is not who I really I’m. I’m told that I beat myself up to much. That I take life to seriously. That I look to the future so much that I never see what’s in front of me. But I see what’s in front of me I just don’t want to look at it. Yet who I’m not who I really I’m just a false truth. Hidden within the shell. Yet the shell is just there to protect us all. Protect you from me and me from everyone else. Yet some one wants to look inside the shell. Someone wants to know me. What do I do? I don’t know so I’m just going to roll with this one this time.