What happened to me?
When did I decide to give up my soul for a copy?
Copying words and phrases that match the people standing next to me—
And when did I stop myself from being?
I can’t think of a moment when I put my wants above someone else—
So I’m reminded that I’ve forgotten how to see myself.
And everything around me seems so grey
That I don’t even know if my likes are mine,
Or just another way
I’ve conformed to find commonality with others.
Now I’ve become the stranger.
I look at my image and see pieces thrown together from
other places, other faces,
almost looking natural,
But something doesn’t add up.
I don’t add up. Not in this way.
Because I’m constantly giving and taking away from who I am—
Giving into demands,
Giving up on my plans,
Taking on image after image hoping that they will fit me,
But this is not living.
I need to be comfortable in my own skin, so I am choosing myself this time.
I choose to listen to folky tunes blaring from my stereos, no headphones
I choose the place with country food, like cornbread and tomatoes from home.
I choose to continue to write down my experiences and speak with honesty,
Connecting my wants and dreams with no apologies.
I choose to love the person I can be when no one else is watching,
And I choose to break down each piece I took on in hopes that someone would accept me.
I choose to be.
I’m scared of the thought of someone seeing me, but it scares me more to lose myself completely,
So I will stop and listen to the voice inside of me—
I choose me.